


The Way Home

by ichbineinnerdess



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichbineinnerdess/pseuds/ichbineinnerdess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'The Love of the King of Camelot' (Arthur and Merlin are already together). Arthur and his knights are waylaid on their way back to Camelot. Magic reveal. Diverges from canon a few episodes before the end of season 4. Multi-chapter. Rated 'M' due to Merthur scenes. Just my second fan fic, I'd appreciate feedback :) Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur was feeling elated. He was cold, though he would never admit it, and the slanting rain was stinging his eyes, but these were minor inconveniences compared to the sheer happiness that seemed to be burning within him. He felt so powerful, so alive. He was King, he and his knights had won a victory that day over a small yet particularly ruthless group of bandits, Morgana had not been seen or heard of for months, ever since her failed attempt to torture Gaius for information that could be used against Camelot. Life was good.

His knights had fallen silent behind him and the only sounds now were the unceasing rain beating against their armor and their horses' footfalls, muted by layers of wet leaves. The light was failing and they would need to stop and make camp soon. They would be back in Camelot before night fell tomorrow. That thought heated Arthur up some more, and he glanced over his right shoulder at Merlin, who was riding almost abreast of himself.

Merlin seemed to be lost in thought. His hood only partially covered his head and his face was wet and cold and beautiful.

A horse whinnied behind them, and Arthur abruptly returned his eyes to the path in front of him. He was constantly reminding himself not to stare at Merlin, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

It had been a few weeks now since that first night spent with Merlin in his chambers – the night he had dared to caress his manservant, the night he had realized his feelings were reciprocated, the night filled with so many slow, passionate pleasures – he swallowed and shifted in his saddle. There had been many wonderful nights with Merlin since they had discovered each other's love, and each other's bodies, but the days had become more difficult to navigate.

He wondered how much his knights knew, how much they guessed. He and Merlin had been close for years now, but some change in their behavior must have been noticed by Leon or Gwaine, at the very least. He knew that Leon always watched him closely; he had always been protective of him, ever since the first time Arthur had swung a sword. Gwaine, on the other hand, despite being his sworn knight, seemed to be overprotective and watchful only where Merlin was concerned. Sometimes Arthur thought that Gwaine's loyalty lied with Merlin first, before his King, but he couldn't bring himself to find fault with that. Merlin was safer with a friend like Gwaine, and Arthur was grateful for it. He himself had no lack of sworn knights who would defend him to their last breath.

Did his knights suspect their King was enamored of his manservant? There had been a change in the way that Merlin smiled at him sometimes now, Arthur knew. His looks were just so full of unguarded love sometimes, that it literally took Arthur's breath away for a few moments. Arthur himself had stopped playfully punching Merlin, had stopped poking fun at him and teasing him as he used to, had stopped loudly complaining about his utter uselessness… although those things had largely been in jest, he couldn't bring himself to pretend now, not anymore.

Had Leon noticed that way Merlin had smiled at him when his fingers brushed against Arthur's this morning at the campfire, when he had handed him his cup? That mischievous smile and cocked eyebrow that Arthur had come to associate with his buttons being unfastened and his trousers untied? Had he noticed the way Arthur had stared into Merlin's face and blushed?

Had Gwaine noticed the way Arthur had touched Merlin's cheek after the battle, so unguardedly grateful for the stroke of luck that had caused one of the bandits to trip over a tree root as he headed, sword bloody and drawn, towards Merlin, who was half-hidden, unarmed, behind a tree? Arthur had thought they were concealed by the tree, but had turned to find Gwaine in the act of turning away from them, kneeling to retrieve a large throwing knife. Did Gwaine guess at what was between them?

Four days ago they had fallen asleep together, had slept more soundly than usual, and Merlin had run into Gwaine on his way back to Gaius's chambers in the very-early morning. Gwaine had been on his way back from the bedchamber of a certain red-haired, freckled young lady (it was a well-known secret that he met with the youngest daughter of one of the more pompous council-members, and Arthur privately thought that he was overdue for some trouble on that account), so when he met Merlin, both of them with unfastened boots, half-open shirts and jackets on their arms, it was clear which suspicion would first come to mind. It had been just around the corner from Arthur's bedchamber. Merlin had reported that Gwaine was taken aback for a moment, and had then let out a small bark of a laugh and slapped Merlin lightly on the shoulder before continuing on his way.

Arthur glanced at Merlin again. He wasn't ashamed. He loved Merlin and was proud of the impressive young man he had become over the past few years. His loyal, brave Merlin. It was a pity that such a love could not be publicly accepted for what it was, but for now that did not affect their happiness.

Although another few minutes of this weather might turn Merlin into an icicle, and that would definitely affect their happiness.

"Gwaine has stopped complaining, so something is clearly terribly wrong. We should find someplace dry, make camp for the night." Arthur announced.

"Dry?" Gwaine's response came instantly. "I vaguely seem to remember the meaning of that word. Perce, help me out here?"

"Dry, dry, dry…" Percival, playing along. "No, mate, sorry. Can't remember. Something to do with _warm_ , maybe."

"Warm," Gwaine's voice was dreamy now. "I could use a warm apple pie right now. Warm apple cider…"

"Warm anything, really." Merlin contributed to the conversation, and Arthur could feel him grinning, awoken from his reverie and all perked up again.

"Thank you, Gwaine and Percival," Arthur said drily, "for volunteering to ride ahead and select a campsite for us."

"I'm almost sorry we killed those bandits and deprived them of this miserable weather." Gwaine grumbled as he spurred his horse.

Arthur smiled to himself.

He heard a rustle of leaves to his left at the exact same time that his horse gave way underneath him, neighing loudly, and the world turned suddenly upside down.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwaine reigned in his horse hard as Arthur went down in front of him. His eyes registered the rope pulled taut across their path immediately, but Merlin's horse toppled over before he could form any word of warning. His sword was already drawn, and he knew without looking that Percival had already maneuvered his horse behind him to face the opposite direction, when Leon's shout of 'Ambush!' reached his ears, at the same time as men in brown cloaks, decorated with nets of leaves, swarmed onto the path.

"Protect the King!" he heard Leon shout, and if he couldn't it wasn't for lack of trying. Sounds of steel on steel were all around him now, cries of pain (mercifully none in voices that he recognized), Leon's roar of frustration, closer now than his voice had been before. Gwaine slashed through yet another man's neck as he jumped off his horse, feeling the warm spray of blood on his cheek and brow, parried a sword thrust aimed at his side and smashed that man's jawbone with his elbow. That had been the last bastard standing between him and his King, between him and Merlin.

He turned his eyes towards the place he had last seen Arthur lying on the ground white with pain, unable to stand, his sword arm limp at his side and his sword, not as steady as he would wish, in his other.

The sword was no longer in Arthur's hand, and there was another one at his throat. Arthur looked furious, probably at himself.

"Surrender or your King dies!" the man holding the sword to Arthur's throat shouted gruffly. He was bald, dressed warmly in furs, and he had a commanding air about him.

The sounds of battle died down behind him and he could feel the uncertainty in the air. The Knights had the upper hand in the fight, they already almost outnumbered their remaining attackers and must be loath to surrender, but their King had been captured; Gwaine turned around wildly and could see them already beginning to lower their swords.

"No!" he yelled, frustrated. "Leon! If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead already! They want him alive!" He raised his sword just a bit higher at some idiot who had begun to advance towards him. " _Leon_! Are we going to surrender to them, _surrender the King_ to them?"

"Yes." Leon was pale, but he spoke firmly as he lowered his sword.

"Come now," sneered the bald man, "it is as you say, Sir Knight, we prefer your King alive – but we have no need of him if we are dead, do we now?" His sword pressed closer to Arthur's throat, and Gwaine saw the thin trickle of blood.

" _Gwaine_?" He heard Percival whisper his name behind him and knew it was a question, that his sword wasn't the only one still raised. He cursed under his breath. It was pointless now, he knew, Leon had made the decision and the momentum in their favor had been lost. The only one of them who could still turn the tide of this battle had been knocked unconscious before it had even begun. He glanced over to where Merlin had been thrown from his horse, his hair matted and the side of his face covered in blood. He willed him to open his eyes and save the day somehow, but Merlin lay still and Gwaine could barely tell if he was breathing. His stomach clenched at the thought. He looked at Arthur. The damned noble fool had followed his gaze to Merlin and was giving him a puzzled look, as if wondering what he could possibly be basing his decision on.

"Gwaine." Arthur didn't so much speak as move his lips, as his gaze shifted to Gwaine's sword and back, but Gwaine understood anyway. If there was a chance, any chance, that Camelot might not be left without a King, and without any obvious heir, they would take that risk, no matter what manner of dishonorable death capture might entail.

"Lay down your sword, Perce." Gwaine snarled as the men closed in on him. "These dirty motherless scum aren't worth us dirtying our blades."

...

"When I tell you to lay down your swords, it doesn't mean raise your fists!" Leon hissed at them.

They had been stripped of their armor, their hands tied together in front of them, the rope around their necks binding them all together. Gwaine was shivering and fervently hoping that they didn't have far to go. "What did you expect, that I would go down without a fight?" he hissed back.

Percival turned his neck to reveal a rapidly darkening eye and bruised jaw. "Yeah," he grinned at Leon, "we never learned how to do that."

"Well, don't ask me to give you my boots when your toes fall off." Leon muttered. Gwaine's boots had been the only ones taken.

"That's not because I landed a few well-aimed punches, mate," he scoffed, shaking the hair out of his eyes, "that's because of my impeccable sense of _style_."

Gwaine heard Percival give a little laughing snort at that, and thought he heard something like a smile in Leon's voice as he said something which sounded suspiciously like "not your _mate_ " under his breath. Good. Nothing like false bravado to keep them warm while trudging through the cold towards probable death. At least Arthur was not forced to endure this march along with his other injuries.

Arthur was slumped over in his saddle, the reins of his horse in the bald man's clenched fist. Beroun, the other men had called him. His sword arm was lying limp in his lap, and his other arm was wrapped around his torso, hugging it to his body. Gwaine knew that if it weren't for the rain, the cold sweat would be visible on Arthur's face, knew that it was all Arthur could manage to not fall off his horse.

Still, despite the pain he was clearly in, every few minutes he would lift his head to look at the semi-unconscious Merlin, who was being held tightly by the man riding to Beroun's other side. Gwaine cursed softly under his breath and hoped that none of them had noticed the King's concern for a seemingly simple manservant, because he did not want to think about what would happen to Merlin if these men, whoever they were and whatever they wanted, realized they could use him against Arthur. At least it was dark now, the crescent moon giving very little light by which to notice anything.

Not for the first time, Gwaine wondered about Arthur's blindness where Merlin was concerned. He cared for him deeply, more than he cared for anyone else, that much was obvious to Gwaine, but despite that, and despite all of the time the two of them spent together, it was as if Arthur never even suspected the power Merlin had, never put two and two together and realized that Merlin was the one constant in all of the most inexplicable victorious scenarios.

He expected nothing more from most of the knights; although he had come around to accept their good intentions and noble hearts, he knew they did not perceive people from all stations of life as equals. To them, Merlin was just a peasant, a servant. He may be the King's personal servant, and obviously on very friendly terms with him, loyal and brave in his own way, but nevertheless, just a servant. It would never occur to them to attribute to him the frequent strokes of luck and unexplained events that saved their lives, any more than it would occur to them to thank the servant who emptied their chamber pot or to thank the knife they used to cut their meat. Noble bloody fools. Or as Merlin would no doubt say, noble prats. Gwaine knew better, however.

Merlin had been his first real friend in a very long time, had taught him to trust again. When Gwaine had had second, and third and fourth, thoughts about becoming a knight, it was Merlin's implicit trust in Arthur that had swayed him. It was as if Merlin's smile had melted away the barriers around his scarred heart. That rediscovery of trust and real friendship had allowed him to let others in as well. Gwaine had seen Percival through a difficult time, the loss of Lancelot, and now he was more than a comrade-in-arms to him, he was like a blood-brother. Every human connection he had now, he felt he owed to Merlin.

Protective of him, and watchful, he had been shocked the first time he had noticed Merlin dip his head and form strange words with his lips, the first time he had seen Merlin's eyes glow gold for the briefest of moments. He had been more scared than he cared to admit, but had not allowed his trust in Merlin to be shaken. Watching Merlin closely, he had slowly come to realize how much they all owed him. Every time a villain stumbled or tripped, every time a lucky cave-in or falling branch helped them escape, every time a beast inexplicably stopped attacking or some magical ruse against Camelot was discovered and stopped in the nick of time, Gwaine felt he was safe in assuming that Merlin was owed thanks.

He had wanted to confront him, but had ultimately felt that it was Merlin's right to hold on to his secret if he wished, he would not pry it out of him. He had decided to respect Merlin's right to privacy. It had driven a wedge between them, however. Recently, Merlin had become more secretive and closed-off, looked more and more like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. Gwaine, always open and honest with Merlin, did not always know how to speak to him now, and so they spoke less.

That would change if they both survived this, he promised himself.

Among other things, he would speak to him about Arthur. When he had first noticed his lingering stares at Merlin, he had been afraid that the King would be tempted to take improper advantage of his manservant, and had wondered whether he should say anything to Merlin about it. He probably would have by now if he hadn't known about Merlin's magic, the boy was hardly defenseless after all, or if Merlin hadn't been so openly fond of Arthur that it was clear he did not feel ill-used in any way. Lately, Merlin had been doing his fair share of staring and it had not gone unnoticed by Gwaine. The way Merlin now smiled to himself whenever he caught Arthur's gaze upon him, the way their hands brushed whenever Merlin handed him anything – none of these things had escaped Gwaine's attention. Meeting Merlin that night in the hallway, clearly sneaking out of the King's chambers – well, it was clear by now to Gwaine that the King shared his bed with his manservant, and that the both of them were enjoying it. Merlin was in love no doubt, quite possibly for the first time in his young life, and had no one to share it with, to confide his new-found happiness in. Well, Gwaine would correct that. Just as soon as Merlin magicked them out of this mess.

"Stop!" Beroun commanded.

Gwaine had assumed they were headed for one of the caves on the other side of the river bank; they were not far from a crossing. He strained his neck to see what was going on, trying to ignore the chafing of the rope.

Two of the men had run forward and were lifting a heavy door. An underground root cellar, he realized. Well, it had to be warmer than out here, right?

"Gwaine, don't –" Leon began to whisper, but Gwaine struggled anyway as hands were lain on him, as they were all shoved unceremoniously towards the cellar door.

The rope around their necks was removed, while a few of Beroun's men went in.

"Down the ladder!" a man barked at him.

He looked Percival in the eye and nodded. He then knelt, grabbed the ladder in his bound hands, and began his descent into the darkness below.


	3. Chapter 3

"Gwaine, are you trying to burrow into the ground, mate?" Percival asked good-naturedly.

They were tied together, with Gwaine on the other side of the beam, facing east. Their hands were still bound and had been tied to their feet, which were now bound at the ankles. Gwaine had been struggling for a while now, and Percival had been tolerating it without saying a word, despite the rope chafing at him, since at least it seemed to be warming Gwaine up a bit.

"Trying… to… untie… hands." Gwaine grunted, his voice muffled.

"Only thing you'll get for your efforts are torn, bloody lips," Percival said matter-of-factly, "you won't untie these knots with your mouth. You'll lose a tooth first."

A few more moments passed before Gwaine finally ceased his struggle. Percival felt him lean back against the beam and, in the sudden silence, could hear his teeth chattering slightly. He glanced yet again at the stolen goods on the far side of the cellar. There was a pile of furs there. If only Merlin could get to them…

He looked over at Arthur, warily. It was dark, the single torch left to them on the wall didn't provide much light, but it seemed that Arthur's eyelids were half-closed. He was breathing slowly, carefully. Cracked rib or two, Percival guessed, in addition to his obviously broken arm. Leon, tied to the same beam as Arthur, hadn't moved a muscle, so far as Percival could tell, since their captors had left; probably for fear of causing Arthur pain. Maybe they had both fallen asleep. He decided it was worth the risk.

Percival stretched out his feet as far as possible and nudged Merlin's shoulder with his boot. Merlin was lying on the ground not far from him, the only one of them not tied to a beam, and whose bound hands weren't also tied to his ankles, either because of his head injury or due to the fact that he wasn't a knight and therefore posed less of a threat. Whatever the reason, Merlin could get to those furs.

Percival nudged him again. "Merlin!" He whispered loudly.

"Percival!" Arthur practically hissed at him. "What on _earth_ are you doing?"

"My apologies, Sire." Percival cursed inwardly, "I just thought Merlin could get us those furs over there. Before Gwaine freezes to death." He could feel Gwaine shivering.

"Would you wake him, so that he can sit here and wonder about his fate like the rest of us?" Arthur asked, reprovingly.

"Well, _yes_ ," Percival thought, "he's a big boy, Sire, and he'll manage, same as the rest of us." He held his tongue though. He stopped short of answering back at royalty.

Gwaine could pull it off, somehow, with that roguish charm of his, and Merlin… well, he _was_ Arthur's personal manservant and they were practically best friends, those two. Arthur would let Merlin get away with anything. He himself, however, still always felt slightly ill at ease around nobility. Power was too often misused; he had learned that the hard way. It was hard for him to trust those born to it.

He'd been surprised when Gwaine had confided to him that he was of noble birth himself, his father a knight. Gwaine was different though. He hadn't lived a life of privilege, of nobility. He knew what the world actually was, as seen through the eyes of people like himself. Like Lancelot, whom he had followed to Camelot… whom he would have followed anywhere.

Merlin was one of them, too. Elyan was a commoner like them as well, he supposed, but he was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, and Percival privately thought he gave himself airs. Percival was fond of Merlin. He and Gwaine would often invite Merlin to go along with them to the tavern, and occasionally he did. He had a wicked sense of humor sometimes, that lad, when he wasn't too preoccupied about something or other, and he somehow reminded Percival of home, of his old village from when he was a boy himself. Those were good times, with Gwaine and Merlin at the tavern. Merlin was surprisingly handy in a fight, too. No doubt because he was small and quick; good reflexes.

Gwaine had a very high opinion of Merlin, Percival knew, as had Lancelot. Lance had remarked to him once that Merlin was incredibly brave, more than anyone knew. He had been drunk, but serious, and he had changed the subject of the conversation immediately after Percival had asked for an example. Percival hadn't thought much of it until Gwaine had said something similar regarding Merlin's courage and had also dropped the subject when pressed. Percival wasn't the type to ask twice, or to be overly curious about the affairs of other people, but he knew that there was something he didn't know about Merlin. It was probably something to do with the lad's intelligence, though. Merlin was exceptionally bright, they all knew that. Maybe he was acting as a spy for Arthur somehow? Whatever it was, he accepted the high opinions of Lance and Gwaine without question, and besides, Merlin had proven himself to be a true friend. He'd stolen warm milk for him from the kitchen, no questions asked, and then hadn't told any of the other knights when he found out that Percival had adopted a stray kitten and was nursing it back to health. He'd even helped Percival, and Percival instinctively trusted anyone so good with baby animals. The other knights often teased him about his soft heart, because of the way he took to small children and animals, but Merlin had grinned happily at him and his kitten, and had even voiced approval of the name Percival chose (Sir Pounce-a-lot, as a tribute to Lance), saying that they would have him healthy and pouncing all over the place in no time at all.

Merlin stirred, and groaned. Percival avoided looking in Arthur's direction.

"Wh – what the –" Merlin sat up slowly, bringing his hands up to his bloodied forehead. "Where are we?"

"In a below-ground cellar, which may as well be in the middle of nowhere." Arthur spoke calmly, collectedly. Percival wondered if he was trying to hide his discomfort from Merlin. The success of that wasn't likely, Percival could have told him that.

"I can't believe – I can't _believe_ I was knocked unconscious! I'm such an _idiot_!" Merlin looked extremely chagrined.

"There's hardly anything you could have done, trust me, Merlin." Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin. "You shouldn't get yourself worked up over nothing, your head is injured."

"Over nothing?" Merlin repeated, looking around him. "No, of course, you're right, Sire. Silly me, worrying. We're only tied up and helpless and probably waiting for our deaths. If we don't freeze first. Nothing to write home about."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"Um, Merlin?" Percival ventured, "Any chance you could get us those – "

"Absolutely not." Arthur glared at Percival. "Merlin could get himself in trouble over that."

"Oh, yes, I wouldn't want to get myself into any trouble! I wonder what _that_ would feel like." It was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes. "What do you need, Perce?"

"Um." Percival was unsure now. Gwaine hadn't said anything for a while now, it was unlike him, but Arthur wasn't wrong either, it would be clear who had taken the furs…

"Perce?"

"Um, well –" he glanced over at Arthur, whose eyes were half-closed in pain again. "There are some furs over there," he gestured with his head in their direction, "and Gwaine's teeth were chattering pretty hard earlier… but Arthur – I mean, the King – well, he has a point, Merlin, I wouldn't want –"

"Well, I wouldn't want Gwaine to freeze to death. Gwaine, you alright?" Merlin got up slowly, using the wall as support. "Gwaine?"

"M'alright." Gwaine managed.

That seemed to decide Merlin.

" _Merlin_!" Arthur sounded exasperated. He leaned his head back against the beam for support as he turned his neck slightly, watching Merlin go through the pile of furs. "As your King, I _command_ you – "

"Arthur, don't be ridiculous," Merlin said firmly, "none of you will do anybody any good if you all bloody freeze to death. And I never do as I'm told anyway."

He covered Gwaine first, with a huge, thick dark brown fur. Percival could hear him whispering gently to him.

"Gwaine, you alright there, mate?" Percival tried for light-hearted, but he could hear the worry in his own voice.

"He'll be fine, he just needs to warm up a bit, and rest. He mostly has a mean headache. I wish I had some salve for his lips, though. It appears he tried to gnaw his way through the rope, like a rat." Merlin said, and Percival felt reassured. Merlin was practically Gaius's apprentice, after all.

"I warned him about the rope." he said, smiling slightly to himself at the thought of Gwaine being so unable to accept defeat despite his better judgment.

"You're injured, Sire." Merlin's fingers were probing gently at Arthur's side now. "If I only had something to bind your arm with, to bind your ribs – there are a couple of stolen dresses over there, maybe I could tear the fabric –"

"Merlin," Arthur's voice was tired, "enough, stop. There is nothing you can do for me now. Just –" he looked up at Merlin, and his gaze softened.

Percival watched as Merlin took Arthur's hand in both of his, and sat there for a moment with a bowed head. Then Merlin rose, and brought some more furs over to them, tucking a soft grey fur gently around his King first, before covering the rest of them.

He returned to kneel beside Arthur. Percival heard him whisper, "I could untie the ropes, Arthur. I could –"

"We don't have any weapons, Merlin. The door is extremely heavy, and chained from the outside. When those men return – well, I think it likely Morgana will be with them." Arthur put his hand on Merlin's arm, grimacing with pain as he did so.

"Why? What did they say?" Merlin asked, quietly.

Percival knew by now that Morgana was a painful subject for them, King and servant both. Once, there must have been light and love in her now shriveled black heart, he supposed, but he had to wonder, sometimes, whether the opportunity to finish her off had arisen at some earlier time and had been lost to Arthur's compassion, at the future cost of so many lives…

"Nothing much," Arthur answered carefully, "but they did mention something about 'her wanting them alive', and so I assumed –"

"Yes," Merlin nodded slowly, "that would make sense. Arthur, we need to get out of here –"

"It would be a pointless attempt, Merlin." Arthur shook his head. "Go," he said more softly, "try and get some rest while you can. Maybe Morgana will let you go when she arrives."

Merlin let out a quick breath and bit his lip. "I hardly think –" he began to say, and then stopped. He put his hands to Arthur's forehead, and then dropped them again. "Alright, Arthur. Maybe," he said, "you never know."

Merlin came back to his spot near Percival, wrapping himself up in a rust-colored fur. He was shivering a little.

"Here, come closer," Percival said, "you'll be warmer that way."

He was rewarded with a grateful grin as Merlin sidled up to him, leaning slightly against his side.

Some moments of silence passed.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Arthur suddenly asked. "Your head – I didn't ask…"

"Yes. I'm fine, Arthur."

"I'm sorry you were dragged into this."

"Wh-what?" Merlin gave Arthur a bewildered look. "Where else would I be?"

"At the castle," Arthur replied primly, "doing – doing servant things."

Merlin gave a very unservantly snort and burrowed deeper into his fur. "Servant things," he muttered and shook his head, and then in an even lower voice, " _clotpole_."

Percival couldn't help being amused, and he looked over at Arthur, hoping for the usual biting rejoinder, but Arthur was chewing the inside of his lip and staring at nothing, apparently pretending not to have heard.

They were warmer now with the furs, and Percival could swear that Sir Brennis, who was tied furthest from him, together with Elyan, was actually snoring softly.

"Open it up!" a harsh voice suddenly bellowed from above them.

Percival tensed, and he could feel Merlin become more alert at his side as well.

The heavy door slowly opened above them, revealing three men holding torches and half-empty bottles of drink.

A burly man with unkempt whiskers took a torch from one of the other men and gestured for him to go into the cellar. "Get in there." he said, and it had been his harsh voice they had heard just now. His next words hit Percival like an unexpected punch to the stomach, unwanted memories from his time at the orphanage rushing to the surface. "Bring the little one up for us to enjoy."


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur stared in horror at the cellar door as it slammed shut above them. The act had an air of finality about it.

He hadn't said a word.

They had taken Merlin, _his Merlin_ , and he hadn't said a word.

He was the King. He was helpless.

He had watched Merlin be manhandled to his feet and up the ladder by some lowly ruffian and his brain had been unable to form a coherent thought, much less convert it into speech. He had just sat there, the beating of his own heart growing impossibly loud against his ribcage as everything in his world grew dark. Everything except for the beacon of light that was Merlin, without which he might as well be a drowned man lost at sea.

He felt crushed under his own helplessness, for what words could the captive King speak now, what vain threats or pitiful pleas would help Merlin?

Merlin. His lips had formed the word, but he could not tell if any sound escaped them, and then it had been too late. Merlin was gone. Taken from him. To be _enjoyed_ by…

He shut his eyes tight against the thought.

Just a few moments ago every breath had hurt his fractured side, had caused a sharp pain in his broken arm. Now he just felt cold, numb. It was as if his racing heart had sunk to some irretrievable depth. He would have welcomed back the pain as something to focus on.

Merlin hadn't said a word either. There had been panic in his eyes, Arthur was experienced enough in battle and in the training of men to be able to recognize that unmistakable look of panic, but there had also been that look of determination that he knew so well. He never had quite figured out what was behind that determined look that Merlin got sometimes, and somehow he had always felt that it wouldn't do to ask.

He felt a very real physical pain in his heart as he tried not to think what Merlin was being determined about as he was hauled off. Had he been trying to put a brave face on it for Arthur, for the knights? Had he been resigning himself to his fate, deciding that he wouldn't beg or cry or allow himself to be broken by it?

Percival's voice broke through into his consciousness. He was repeating Gwaine's name.

Gwaine.

Gwaine hadn't been at a loss for words. He had shouted, struggled against the ropes confining him, made desperate threats, hurled profanities, some of which were surprisingly new to Arthur, had yelled to Merlin that he would be alright…

Gwaine let out a final roar of frustration and then quieted. Arthur could hear him panting.

Percival met his gaze. If Percival had noticed that he was bleeding where the rope had cut him during Gwaine's struggles, he wasn't letting on. He was sporting a new cut near his already blackened eye now, too. Closest to Merlin, he had struck out with his feet as best as he was able, and had actually attempted to head-butt the man as he neared him. That had earned him a kick in the face. Luckily the man was half-drunk and not too stable on one leg, or it might have been worse.

"Sire," Percival began, then stopped. He looked down at his tied wrists and kept looking at them as he spoke again, "Sire, I'm not much with words. But when I was a boy, my village was burnt to the ground by men from Essetir. My parents died in that attack. I was sent, along with some other children, to a monastery, some days ride away. The money for the children's home there came from a noble family that lived nearby." He smiled bitterly. "They didn't do it for charity's sake alone. The monks would creep into the sleeping hall some nights and take one of the boys. Turns out, the noblemen would come down from their big, fancy house, them and their friends, to have their way with those boys. The monks kept silent and took their money."

Arthur stared at him. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this now, but Percival had never spoken so many words to him at once. He groped for something to say to this man he now considered his friend.

"Percival. I'm sorry –"

"No." Percival interrupted him, and then flushed at his own impudence. "No, Sire. What I'm saying is – well, I was too old for them by then, too strong-willed. But I had to watch it happen. There wasn't anything I could do to help." He met Arthur's gaze once more and held it, flushing more deeply. "It took me a long time to forgive myself for that. To stop feeling ashamed."

Leon spoke up, "There was nothing you could have done."

Percival looked at what he could see of Leon, who was tied behind Arthur, and remained silent. He looked heartbreakingly unconvinced.

"How long were you there?" Elyan asked.

"Not long. I ran away just a few months later. Alone."

"It must have been hard enough for you to survive on your own," Leon said, reacting at once to the implied self-beration, "without a group of ragtag smaller boys depending on you."

Percival shrugged in a tired way, which suggested to Arthur that he had gone over this in his mind hundreds of times already. "Where I was going with this, Sire, is –" he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Well, the important thing was not to let them feel ashamed. Merlin – Merlin will have nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

There was a long, heavy silence this time.

"I ran across a few of those boys in later life," Percival continued doggedly. "They were alright, Sire. Just fine."

"Yes? So you think Merlin will be 'just fine', do you, Percival?"

Percival didn't answer. He looked at Arthur with something dangerously close to compassion.

"No," Arthur said quietly, "I didn't think so." He nodded at Percival and turned his head away. He was trying not to think. Not to think about that man, leering at Merlin…

"I ran across a few of those monks again, too." Percival spoke up again suddenly, and Arthur glanced back at him to see an uncharacteristically malicious grin on his face.

"By chance?" Gwaine asked, in a tone that suggested he could guess the answer himself.

"No. Lance's idea, actually." Percival grinned. "I met him when we both stood up for this scrawny little pickpocket at a market. Got to talking about runaway urchins, same as I was once. Somehow, the day ended up with the both of us riding towards that accursed monastery, to see what was what these days and maybe set things to rights. I was so used to pushing it out of my mind, I would never have thought of going back on my own…"

"Did you? Set things right?" Gwaine asked.

"We did." Percival replied, twisting around so that he had a better view of the back of Gwaine's shoulder, "It was still an orphanage. We watched it for almost a week's worth of nights and intercepted some nobles come to pay a visit –" his words caught in his throat suddenly and he glanced worriedly at Arthur.

Arthur shook his head to himself and gave a small, wry smile. Percival had obviously just realized what he was saying and to whom. Commoners could be put to death for the crime of attacking men of noble birth. "Don't worry," he said drily, "your secret is safe with me, Sir Percival."

"Right. Sire." Percival mumbled, and then continued, "Well, to make a long story short, we shortened their stories for them. Lance led the boys to the closest village, there were only thirteen of them, and got the innkeeper's wife to swear she would find them all apprenticeships or families to take them in. He was always good with the ladies –" Percival stopped abruptly again, not daring to so much as look in Arthur's direction this time.

Gwaine cleared his throat loudly. "So that's how the two of you started travelling together?" he asked in a tone of forced nonchalance.

"Yeah," Percival said, "I sort of tagged along after him, after that. We had good fun, too. He was great with a sword."

"So where were you?"

"Sire?"

"Where were you while Lancelot," Arthur pronounced the name calmly, "led those boys away?"

"Oh. I – I dealt with the monks. Sire."

"So the monastery is no longer there, I take it?"

"No, Sire. Burnt to the ground. Apparently, one of the monks left a candle in the library, whole place went down in flames. No survivors except for a few novices. Very tragic."

"I see. Well, accidents will happen, Sir Percival."

"Yes, Sire." Percival agreed.

A silence fell on them again. Arthur closed his eyes. The pain was resurfacing. Good. Focus on breathing, focus on the pain…

Don't think about Merlin. Don't think about his lazy, content smile when he complains about having to sneak through the cold hallways back into his own bed. Don't think about how warm his skin feels under the covers. Don't think about how even in this makeshift dungeon, he had dimpled and given Arthur a laughing, flirtatious look from under his long eyelashes as he had snuggled up to Percival. Don't think about what might be happening to him right now…

"We will avenge the boy as well, Sire." Sir Brennis piped up. "I wouldn't worry about him too much. Merlin's obviously the resilient type. Maybe you could give him a few extra coins. I'm sure he'll be back to cheerfully polishing your armor in no time at all."

Arthur's eyes flew open, narrowed. _A few extra coins…_? He felt a white hot rage build up inside him. "Sir Brennis," he said coldly, "when these ropes are untied, it will be your great fortune that my arm is broken. Otherwise, I might be tempted to break your jaw and then give _you_ a few extra coins."

"And then you wonder, Sir Brennis," Leon added, in a tone of utter contempt, "why we never take you anywhere."

"Sire, forgive me if –" Sir Brennis's reply was cut short by the sound of someone fumbling with the chains of their prison door.

Arthur held his breath as he looked up. How long had it been? Not too long, surely? Maybe… maybe they hadn't…

Merlin's tear-stained face appeared in the torchlight above them.


	5. Chapter 5

"Bring the little one up for us to enjoy."

Him. They were talking about him.

Merlin suddenly found it difficult to breath.

He stared at the man lumbering ungracefully down the ladder, his heart racing.

 _Think, Merlin, think_. He couldn't give in to fear now.

He looked over at Arthur's pained, stunned expression and felt a sudden pang of love for him. How terrible this helplessness must be for Arthur.

"We're going to have some fun with you!" the man was standing over Merlin now, a disgusting smirk on his face.

Some part of Merlin's brain registered that Percival was actually trying to attack the man from his seated tied-up position, that Gwaine was struggling like mad again and shouting, that he was being lifted forcibly to his feet, but everything seemed distant somehow. He had room in his consciousness for two main thoughts right now.

They were taking him outside to be raped.

He was a powerful warlock.

Rough hands grabbed him by the neck and by his belt and shoved him towards the ladder.

He set his jaw. He was _not_ going to be raped. They were taking him outside. They had made the choice easy for him.

Although, was there really any other choice? Would he have let himself be raped in front of Arthur rather than let his magic be discovered? No, he thought to himself, there was a limit even to his self-sacrifice.

He could hear the man chuckling behind him, could smell his alcohol-soaked breath by his ear. "Climb!" the man snarled at him, and as he did he could have sworn he heard Arthur whisper his name.

"C'mere, boy," the man with the whiskers grabbed the back of his shirt impatiently as he neared the opening and dragged him up the rest of the way, pushing him to the ground as the two others shut and chained the door again.

"Well," the man that had brought Merlin up said, "he's on his knees already, what do you lads say we reward ourselves for our troubles before taking him back?"

"No," the whiskered man frowned as he lifted Merlin to his feet and pushed him, motioning for him to walk, "Beroun gets to have the first go at him, and I'm not risking getting on his wrong side today. Dealing with that witch always puts him on edge. Besides, it's too cold, Garbh, your tiny little prick would probably drop off."

The third man guffawed appreciatively. "Ha! Good one, Craig!"

"You lead, Cavan." Cavan nodded and walked off, still snickering.

"Thought I told you to start walking." Craig growled and slapped Merlin hard on the buttocks, making him jump. He stumbled forward, feeling the color rising in his face.

Focus, he told himself as he walked, ignoring the incessant stream of suggestive comments and occasional pinch on the behind from Garbh. _Focus on what you need to do_.

His first instinct had been to somehow elude these three, free the others and make a run for it. But how far ahead would they get before chase was given? They were without weapons. Arthur was seriously injured and Gwaine wasn't in peak form either. Merlin would have to intervene anyhow when they were inevitably caught up with and he wasn't sure it would go unnoticed in such a one-sided encounter. So that option was no good, he decided. He had to go with them, to where the others were. He had to make sure they weren't followed.

"So what's your name, boy?" Garbh cuffed him on the head.

Merlin let out a small cry of pain, then cursed himself inwardly and bit his lip. His head felt like it might explode.

When he had regained consciousness in the cellar, he had sensed his magic accelerating the healing process the way it always did, but he wasn't fully healed yet. If he were back home, Gaius would probably have him confined to bed with a ridiculously large bandage around his head. He'd probably make him swallow some foul-smelling concoction, too. Merlin had a lurking suspicion that Gaius added stinking ingredients unnecessarily; he could picture him and Geoffrey roaring with laughter over the private joke.

There was laughter behind him now. "Aw, he's so delicate, the little lad," Craig said loudly, "pity he's in for such a rough night, eh?"

They were crossing the bridge now and Merlin could already see from afar the flickering firelight they were headed towards, a cave entrance probably.

How many of them were there? He should've asked Percival while he had the chance. Although he supposed it didn't matter, not really. They would be drunk, surprised – it would be over quickly.

He felt sick to his stomach. He would have to kill them all. He'd never done anything like this, not really. His magic had always been worked in secrecy, not out in the open. Hiding behind trees and around corners, always hanging back from the others, he'd caused men to stumble, he'd heated sword-hilts, he'd dropped branches and he'd enchanted weapons, but he'd never faced a group of men with the deliberate intention of taking their lives.

Arthur faced men and killed them; he took no pleasure in it, but he did what needed to be done. He needed to be strong now, like Arthur. Arthur, who was always so brave.

He needed to do this for Arthur, because one thing was clear - no one who discovered his magic could be allowed to live and carry the tale to Morgana. It would take her all of two seconds to figure out that he had been protecting Arthur all this time. She would come after him, and would be sure to do it in front of Arthur and the others in order to put him at a disadvantage. He was more powerful than her, he felt sure of that, but he was limited by the fact that he would not reveal his magic. The others would never realize until too late that Merlin was the target. If she succeeded in destroying him, Arthur would be left vulnerable. If he was forced to reveal himself, he might have to flee Camelot and go into hiding, leaving Arthur vulnerable. No, he resolved, clenching his fists, anyone who discovered his magic had to die.

"Who's there?" a voice called out from near the cave entrance.

"Us, we've got the boy."

The cave interior was surprisingly warm and inviting. Merlin's stomach growled at the smell from the cooking fires and at the sight of assorted meats and fruits on two large crates that seemed to be substituting for a table. The cave was littered with half-open crates, sleeping furs and empty ale bottles. Nine men, Merlin counted, plus the one outside, that makes ten. Of the men in the cave, only Garbh was standing behind him now. Merlin couldn't see the knights' armor or weapons anywhere.

"My men have had a bit too much to drink this night, celebrating our victory and mourning our dead. They are bored and ready for some sport." Beroun walked up to Merlin and grabbed his chin roughly, tilting his face upwards.

"That's a pretty mouth. The King put it to good use?"

Laughter erupted around them. Merlin flushed and kept his eyes lowered, refusing to meet the man's eyes.

"The King's _personal_ servant, are you?" Beroun continued, untying the rope that bound Merlin's wrists together. "Well, since we hold the King in the highest respect," he gave a ferocious smile, "we would consider it an honor to share what is his."

He suddenly pushed Merlin forward and bent him over the makeshift table, twisting his arm painfully. Merlin felt a wave of fear sweep over him, despite everything.

The men were cheering now, shouting out obscene suggestions and arguing about who would go next after Beroun.

He shut his eyes for a moment. These men deserve to die, he told himself firmly. If I didn't have magic –

He opened his eyes again and saw the world in brighter colors, shimmering at the edges, the way he always did whenever he let go and just let his magic flow freely within him. He twisted his head around and looked at Beroun, who was already pulling down Merlin's trousers. Beroun's grin froze in horror as he registered the gold in Merlin's eyes and what it meant. For a split second, it was wildly comical, the contrast between his horrified look and his huge erection. Then Beroun took a step back –

" _Wiþdrífaþ_!" Merlin swept his arm in an arc and all the men in the cave were thrown back forcefully.

He stood up straight and tied his trousers tightly. He noticed his hands were shaking. His resolve, however, was not.

"What are you waiting for, shoot at him!" he heard Beroun snarl angrily, and looked up to see a crossbow trained at him. A few of the men had been knocked unconscious, but the rest were back on their feet and some of them had weapons in their hands. For all that, though, they seemed unsure. Well, I guess that means they've met Morgana, Merlin thought.

"Boy, I'm going to teach you the meaning of pain." Beroun pointed a sword at Merlin, but the fear in his voice was obvious.

Merlin snorted.

" _Cume þoden_!" he stood calmly as a sudden whirlwind started up all around him, making it impossible for the men surrounding him to keep their footing. The crossbow struck Beroun in the face and another man had his throat cut by a whirling dagger.

The wind died down as abruptly as it had started, before any of them could crawl too far. Merlin ran towards the cave entrance, reaching it just as the man standing guard came in. Merlin saw his eyes widen in surprise.

" _Cume neah_!" The man was pulled into the cave, falling sprawled at Merlin's feet.

Merlin stopped in the entrance to the cave, turning to face Beroun, who was on his knees, sword still in one hand and cupping his bleeding cheek with the other.

"You will never hurt anyone ever again," he said in a steady voice, " _feoll bu brand_!"

He took a few steps back as the cave collapsed on the men inside. A few short screams were quickly cut off, and then there was nothing but silence.

There, he thought, it's done. I'm safe now. We're all safe now. His hands began shaking again.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees, and freed himself from the rope that was still tied around one of his wrists. He buried his face in his hands and began sobbing uncontrollably, whether with relief, in a delayed response to the fear and humiliation, or at having just killed all those men, he wasn't sure.

After a few moments, he began to feel the biting cold, and he remembered that Arthur was still tied up, cold and injured and probably worried to death. He took a few deep, shaky breaths and stood up, looking around him. There were a few unlit torches nearby, close to where the guard had stopped them previously.

" _Forbærnan_." Merlin lit a torch, and by its light he noticed a number of bulging sacks and a few small boxes stacked against a large boulder. Closer inspection revealed that the sacks contained the knights' armor and weapons, and the boxes were filled with bottles of mead and honey cakes. Odd.

Merlin sighed. He was too tired, too emotionally spent, to think about how he was going to explain any of this. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve again.

" _Æfterfolgaþ_!" he commanded, and began to walk back in the direction of the underground cellar, where his friends and the man he loved were still imprisoned, the sacks and boxes floating obediently behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur watched Merlin climb down the ladder.

He was alone. His hands were untied. He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, and he certainly wasn't looking over his shoulder.

His eyes were clearly red and slightly puffy from crying.

Merlin switched the torch to his other hand and took a large knife from his belt. Arthur recognized it as Gwaine's.

"Merlin – " Arthur's voice was hoarse. He wasn't really sure what to say, but someone had to say something. "Merlin, what – "

No, he couldn't bring himself to ask Merlin what had happened. Not with the others there, not when all he wanted to do was to hold Merlin tightly in his arms and never let anything bad happen to him ever again. Not when he dreaded the answer so very much.

"Are you alright?" he asked instead, and then immediately felt stupid. Merlin was obviously not alright.

"Fine." Merlin answered, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

He knelt down beside Arthur and began cutting through the ropes that bound him and Leon to the beam, determinedly avoiding his gaze.

When he finished, he cut through the rope at Arthur's ankles and then at his wrists. He glanced once at Arthur's face as he freed his wrists, and Arthur knew it was out of concern for the pain his injured arm was causing him. Merlin almost spoke then – Arthur could see his lips part, could hear the breath catch in his throat – but he seemed to reconsider it, moving on to free Leon instead.

"Where are the others? How did you get away?" Arthur asked. "Are we in any immediate danger from them?" He could feel his brain trying to take active control of the situation, assess the dangers, form a plan – but his heart kept tugging his gaze back to Merlin's face, more vulnerable and scared than he had seen it in years. He watched as Leon wordlessly took the knife from Merlin and began to free the other knights, starting with Gwaine.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Sire?" The response was so automatic that it brought a ghost of a smile to Arthur's lips.

"Merlin, I understand that this is difficult for you…" Arthur swallowed and forced himself to continue, "but I need to know, where –"

"They're all dead." Merlin blurted out hurriedly, still not meeting anyone's eyes. "All dead, but we should leave quickly, Sire, they definitely mentioned Morgana and she could be headed here now for all we know."

There was silence in the cellar now and Merlin was obviously uncomfortable feeling the weight of everybody's stares. He moved over nearer the ladder, and began inspecting it as though it was extremely fascinating.

"All dead?" Leon repeated, rising to his feet and staring at Merlin, the rope binding Elyan's ankles cut only halfway through.

"Yes, all dead." Merlin confirmed in a brisk tone of voice. "Shall we go, then?" He wrapped his arms around himself, still staring at the ladder.

Leon gave Arthur a bewildered glance.

It was Gwaine who first walked over to Merlin. "Alright, if you say they're dead, then they're dead," he said and gently put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin flinched slightly, but then leaned back into the touch, which Arthur thought was a promising sign. He watched Gwaine clench his jaw and stare at the back of Merlin's neck thoughtfully.

"Sire, we should go." Leon was whispering urgently at Arthur's ear. The other knights were all on their feet behind him now, except for Percival, who was standing a few paces behind Gwaine, looking unsure and holding the fur Merlin had wrapped himself in before. "If they are dead," Leon continued, "we should take our armor and weapons first, and find our horses. We should ask Merlin –" he trailed off.

"Merlin, help me up." Arthur commanded.

Merlin seemed taken aback at this for a moment, and Gwaine shot him an irritated look before he remembered himself and looked away.

"Yes, Sire." Merlin came over and kneeled by his good side, draping Arthur's arm over his neck and taking on some of his weight as they rose together.

Arthur could sense his knights' disapproval, but he thought that it might be a good idea to give Merlin something else to concentrate on right now, and added to that this was the only way he could think of to get Merlin close, so that was that.

"Merlin, are you injured at all?" Gwaine asked roughly, and Arthur could tell he was really struggling with himself not to say anything about Merlin being recalled to his duties as manservant so abruptly, when it was still unclear to them what he had been subjected to.

"No. Just my head from the fall," Merlin stole a sideways glance at Arthur and then looked down again as soon as their eyes met, "but it's healing already, I'll be fine, really."

Percival clapped Gwaine on the shoulder, "You look like hell, mate, I've never seen you so pale. Let's go find you some boots."

Gwaine seemed to hesitate a moment longer, still looking with clear displeasure at Arthur leaning on Merlin, but Percival shook his head at him very slightly and said, "Up the ladder, mate."

Arthur continued to lean on Merlin as his knights climbed out of the cellar one by one, until only Leon was left standing with them.

"Sire, may I suggest that you go up just a step ahead of me, in case your grip weakens due to your injury," Leon's tone was carefully respectful, as if he didn't want to suggest any weakness on his King's part.

Arthur shook his head slowly and glanced sideways at Merlin, "No, Leon. Merlin and I will be right behind you."

"If the climb proves to be too much for the King in his state, climb back down and we'll loosen the ladder bolts so that it can be pulled up with Arthur on it." Merlin added.

"That's... that's actually quite ingenious of you, Merlin." Arthur smiled, wholeheartedly this time.

"Yes, well don't sound so surprised." Merlin half-grinned back.

The moment Leon disappeared from their view, Merlin gave a small sigh of resignation.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, "we're going to have a conversation now." He leaned back slowly against the beam, still keeping his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin shook his head, staring at the ground. "Can we please not?"

It sounded like he was trying to keep his voice from breaking, and Arthur felt as though it might break his heart.

He lifted his hand from Merlin's shoulder to his cheek and gently caressed it with his thumb. "Merlin, my love." he whispered.

Merlin let out a shaky breath and cupped Arthur's hand in his own, pressing it harder against his cheek. Arthur could feel the tears on his hand before Merlin lifted his face towards him. His lips were trembling slightly.

"They didn't rape me, Arthur, but they tried."

Arthur felt the relief wash over him so intensely, he had to lean his head back against the beam for a few moments. Then he abruptly leaned forward instead, until his forehead was almost touching Merlin's. "Merlin, I am so sorry that you had to go through something like this. I want you to know that no one will fault you for needing time to get through this. Take all the time that you need, and know that we are all here for you, should you need anything at all."

Merlin touched his forehead to Arthur's and nodded. "We should go," he said reluctantly, after a moment's peaceful silence, "the others will be wondering…"

"I think it's safe to assume they think I'm asking you certain personal questions." Arthur said, apologetically.

Merlin reddened at that. "I'm… I'll tell them nothing happened."

"They'll be glad to hear it." Arthur replied. "Merlin – how did Beroun die?"

Merlin flinched slightly at the mention of Beroun's name. "Um," he said, and Arthur watched him hesitate. _He's going to lie to me - again_ , he realized. He hated this and he hated himself for never confronting Merlin about it. "Never mind," he said abruptly, letting his hand drop to his side.

 _No, not never mind_ , his brain was insisting, _if there is something suspicious here, something not quite right, it is your duty as King to find out what. Merlin couldn't possibly have killed all those men on his own_.

"I trust you, Merlin." he said instead.

"I know." Merlin answered in a quiet voice.

"But you're going to have to tell me – tell us – what happened. It doesn't make sense that – " Arthur pressed his lips together until they were as white as his face. "I don't understand your reluctance." he finally finished.

"I know." Merlin's voice broke, and he bit his lip. " _I know_. But – not now. Just a little longer. Please." he pleaded.

Arthur shook his head slightly, but conceded. "One day, Merlin," he said softly. "By the time we reach Camelot, I must understand what happened here. I am the King."

Merlin nodded his consent, drying his eyes with his sleeve. "One more day then, Sire."


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin sat uncomfortably on a large rock while the knights went through the sacks, recovering their armor and weapons. He shivered slightly.

"It'll be dawn soon." Gwaine said, sitting himself down at Merlin's feet, and proffering up a large chunk of honey cake.

"Thanks." Merlin accepted the honey cake gratefully, and gingerly broke off a bite-sized bit. He watched Arthur as he chewed absent-mindedly.

Arthur was staring toward the receding darkness in the east, his brow furrowed, his good arm wrapped around his broken one, which was cradled in a sling Merlin had fashioned for him out of a belt and some armor underpadding. Merlin could tell he was trying to reach a decision of some sort. He was so pale. Merlin desperately wished he could use his magic to relieve Arthur of some of his pain…

"Merlin," Gwaine said quietly, "there's something I think we should talk about –"

"I wasn't – they didn't – " Merlin faltered, and then stopped, his face flushed. He looked away from Gwaine. "I don't want to talk about it, alright?" He took a deep breath and said in a louder voice that he knew would carry, "They meant to rape me but they never got the chance to." He glanced up hesitantly. No one was looking at him except Arthur, but all other conversation had temporarily ceased so he knew they had all heard him. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head ever so slightly before turning away again. Merlin could almost hear him think, _well, that was subtly done, Merlin_.

Merlin shrugged. "Well, that's the end of that." he mumbled.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Merlin, but I wouldn't count on most of them believing that." Gwaine said.

"Why not?" Merlin's voice was defiant.

Gwaine sighed as he met Merlin's gaze. His expression was soft and Merlin felt an inexplicable anger at the pity he thought he saw there. "Because if I didn't know you were telling the truth, Merl, I'd think you were just too ashamed to admit what had happened." He put his hand on Merlin's boot, and gave a friendly squeeze around Merlin's ankle. "Don't lash out at me either, for telling you the truth. I'm your friend, Merlin."

"I – I know." Merlin's anger subsided. "Gwaine, I was just so scared. I'm ashamed of how terrified I was." he whispered.

Gwaine gave his ankle another squeeze, and shook his head. Merlin thought his eyes glistened in the semi-darkness. "You had every right to feel terrified," he whispered hoarsely, "anyone would, in that situation. You have _nothing_ to feel ashamed of, mate."

They sat there a moment in silence.

"Thanks." Merlin said, finally.

Gwaine nodded, and then grinned. "Actually, that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"No? What then? Did you want my opinion on your stunning new socks?"

Gwaine pursed his lips in mock anger, "I'll have you know, I intend to make these the new fashion in Camelot. Furry socks, for every lady and every lord."

Merlin couldn't help but laugh. It felt good, too. He grinned at Gwaine. "So, how come you're so sure that I'm telling the truth, then?" he asked, slightly more somber.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about –"

"Gwaine, Merlin," Percival came up to them, holding Merlin's recovered cloak. "Are you alright here, the two of you?"

"Yeah, right as rain. Righter, even." Gwaine winked.

"Well, he's obviously feeling better. Might have something to do with the fact that he drank nearly half of the mead we found." Percival smiled at Merlin, handing him the cloak.

"Hair of the dog." Gwaine protested.

"You were punched in the head, mate, not drunk." Percival rolled his eyes.

Merlin smiled back at Percival. "Thanks. Found your chainmail, I see. Arms feel warmer now?" he asked, in his most innocent voice.

Gwaine snorted loudly.

"I have a cloak too, you know." Percival laughed good-naturedly. He sat down on Merlin's other side. "I was really worried about you before." he added quietly, looking up at Merlin.

"Yeah," Merlin nodded. "Thanks, Perce." He didn't know if it was the cloak, or Gwaine and Percival on either side of him, but he felt suddenly warmer on the inside. "The two of you, you're – you're good friends to me, better than I deserve. Thanks."

After a few seconds of awkward silence, he added, "And black and blue are _such_ good colors on you."

"Look manly, don't they?"

"I think they complement my eyes."

Gwaine and Percival touched their bruises cautiously, grinning at each other like a pair of idiots.

Merlin shook his head amusedly and took another bite of honey cake.

"Sire, Elyan is returning, with our horses!" Leon called.

Elyan trotted up the path towards them, with all of their horses following close behind, loosely tied to each other. He dismounted near Arthur.

"Well done, Sir Elyan! Find anything else of interest?"

Merlin could feel Arthur determinedly _not_ looking in his direction.

"Sire, the tracks were not hard to follow. It seems," he paused and gave a Merlin a puzzled glance, which Merlin pretended not to notice, "that the bandits are all, in fact, dead. All signs, various items and footprints as well, seem to point towards them being in a cave, which apparently, er, collapsed."

"Collapsed?" Arthur stared at Elyan, and then at Merlin.

Merlin knew he was wondering whether asking for an explanation would be dishonorable after promising he would not demand one until the next day.

"Merlin, you lucky dog you!" Gwaine slapped him on the knee. "How did that happen?"

"Um –" Merlin hesitated, and Gwaine raised both eyebrows at him, as if encouraging him to go on.

"Well, they took me to the cave and – and then they told me what they were going to do to me –" Merlin swallowed. _The more personal this is, the less likely they are to ask more questions_ , he told himself.

He hadn't planned on coming up with a good lie until later. He hadn't been able to lie to Arthur before, in the cellar; he hadn't even been sure that he wanted to. He'd felt too vulnerable, too emotionally spent, but now he steeled his earlier resolve – his magic _must_ remain secret, for Arthur's own safety. His mind was racing now. _Why would I be outside the cave all by myself? Come on, Merlin, you should be a practiced liar by now..._

"They were all in the cave," he continued, more firmly now, "and then Beroun said that – that he would go first –"

Merlin noticed with some satisfaction that Elyan and Leon were looking very uncomfortable.

"– but he said he didn't need an audience, and he dragged me outside and – and tied my arms around a tree –"

He was definitely making even himself uncomfortable now, but so much the better.

"– he removed some of my clothes –"

_Oh brilliant, Merlin, and then what, he suddenly remembered he'd left some soup cooking so he decided to pop back into the cave just in time for a convenient cave-in?_

"– and then he said he needed some – needed some oil."

 _Brute like him would probably just spit in his palm_ , Merlin thought privately, but he doubted anyone would ask any questions at this point.

Gwaine covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

"He left me tied to the tree like that – and went back into the cave. He was in there for a while and then I heard shouting from inside –"

 _Might as well leave some possibility for mysterious circumstances_ , he thought.

"– and then suddenly there was a huge rumbling noise and the cave collapsed."

_There. That ought to explain everything._

He cleared his throat and looked up. Everyone seemed understandably uncomfortable, but they all seemed to accept his story – except Arthur. Arthur was staring intently at him, as if he'd never seen him before in his life. Their eyes met, and Arthur shook his head, his lips pressed together. Merlin's heart sank as he realized what Arthur meant. _No, Merlin, I don't believe you. You have until tomorrow, as I promised_.

"Merlin, you didn't have to –" it was Leon's turn to uncomfortably clear his throat, "but, well, we're all glad you're safe and – and unharmed."

"Yes, that was indeed a stroke of luck." Sir Brennis added. "You were born under a lucky star, boy. Good thing you managed to get yourself untied."

"Um – yes. The knot wasn't very tight. I – I imagine Beroun was too much in a hurry."

"Merlin, were these things here when those men came for you?" Elyan gestured towards the now-empty sacks and boxes.

"Um – yes." Merlin frowned. _How impolite_ , he thought, _to continue questioning me now, when I am clearly very upset – and might not be able to lie convincingly_.

"These things," Arthur intervened suddenly, "were meant for Morgana."

"They were?" Merlin asked, surprised.

"Yes." Arthur smiled bitterly. "Morgana, she always did love honey. She would have appreciated the gift."

"Oh," Merlin suddenly remembered a story he'd heard Cook tell, "that's right! Leon got her to kiss him for a honey cake once."

Leon blushed fiercely. "On the cheek," he said quickly, stammering a bit. "I was very young and foolish."

"You were young once, Sir Leon?"

"That's enough, Gwaine." Arthur commanded. "Merlin, bring me my horse and help me mount."

Merlin rose to obey.

"We will not reach Camelot by nightfall," Arthur continued, addressing them all, "I cannot ride fast enough for that in my condition. I do not know when Morgana was expected to arrive here. The river is shallow enough to ride in near its bank, we will follow it a while to cover our tracks instead of heading straight for Camelot, making the location of our campsite tonight less predictable and harder to find. I expect to reach Camelot before tomorrow evening. Any questions?"

There weren't any questions, and the knights were ready to ride within moments.

"Sire, your horse." Merlin handed Arthur the reins, allowing his hand to linger in Arthur's longer than strictly necessary, as he usually did these days. He slid his thumb slowly against his lover's gloved palm, a gentle caress. His heart was pounding and he was trying to fight down a growing sense of panic.

Arthur sighed and pulled his hand away, albeit reluctantly. "I know you too well now, Merlin," he whispered. "I know you intimately. Your face, your voice, your expressions…"

He nudged the horse forward a few steps until it completely blocked them both from view, and then turned to Merlin again. "It seemed to be only small things until now, these past few weeks, and I always imagined up valid excuses for you in my mind, but – I can tell when you're being dishonest, Merlin. Honestly, I'm shocked I never noticed before." Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat at the hurt look in Arthur's clear blue eyes. "I don't know why you would lie about this, or anything else, and it frightens me. I have been lied to before, by those I trusted most." Arthur swallowed hard, and looked away.

"Arthur, I –" Merlin stopped, not sure what to say. Too many emotions were whirling around inside of him right now. He felt overwhelmed and definitely panicked.

"It has been a long night for all of us." Arthur said, using his royal tone of voice again, as usual mastering his own emotions more easily than Merlin. "We should get going. Help me up, Merlin."

Feeling numb, Merlin helped Arthur climb into his saddle and then stood watching him as he trotted off towards Leon without a backward glance.


	8. Chapter 8

It would be dusk soon, Merlin knew. Any minute now Arthur would give the order to turn aside from the narrow path they were following and make camp for the night. He sighed.  _What am I going to do_ , he asked himself, possibly for the hundredth time today. Each time, he gave himself a different answer, each time a different scene played out in his head. The scenes, as usual, alternated between his greatest fears and his most hopeful dreams being realized.

Over the past few years, he had often pictured himself revealing his magic to Arthur. Often, he had thought it would be unavoidable, and yet he had always managed to avoid it. Since Uther had died, Merlin had wondered more than once whether he was truly concealing his magic for Arthur's own safety or whether he was simply too afraid of seeing the look of anger and betrayal in his closest friend's eyes at realizing the magnitude of his deception. In the past few weeks, his fear had taken on another aspect. The thought of losing Arthur's love made his stomach clench and his heart flutter in panic.  _So what am I going to do_.

For possibly the hundredth time today, he put it from his mind for the moment.

He and his horse had fallen into an easy rhythm, and Leon rode in a companionable silence beside him. He mulled over the events of the day.

* * *

Uncharacteristically, he had chosen to ride at the very rear of their party, as far away from Arthur as possible. He knew that this would raise a few eyebrows, but he felt that he needed more physical distance to think clearly about it all. Arthur had not commented on his choice, and neither had anyone else. The knights closest to him took turns to fall in by his side, to keep him company and also, Merlin assumed, for more strategical reasons.

Gwaine had been the first to ride beside him. He ridden very close and had taken Merlin's reins in his hand to slow his pace for a few moments, until the small distance between them and Elyan, together with the splashing of the water by their horses' hooves, could safely be considered as out of ears' reach. "I want to talk to you, Merlin." he had said in a loud whisper. Merlin had nodded, curious.

"Listen, I know about – you know," Gwaine wiggled his fingers at Merlin and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"You… know about my fingers?" Merlin gave him a puzzled look.

Gwaine rolled his eyes and flipped his hair back out of his eyes before he leaned in slightly towards Merlin. "No, you idiot," he hissed fondly, "I know about the mumbo jumbo," he wiggled his fingers some more and grinned, "the gobbledygook."

Merlin's mouth fell open as it suddenly dawned on him what Gwaine must be referring to.

"Try not to fall off your horse." Gwaine winked at him, still grinning.

Merlin stared at him. "But  _how_ ," he whispered, " _when_?"

"I don't really remember," Gwaine whispered back, "but not more than a few weeks after we escaped from Jarl, I think."

Merlin just stared at him.

"You're not always very subtle, you know. The others, they just don't look at you as often as I do. Except Arthur, maybe. I'll be damned if I understand how he hasn't figured it out yet."

"I –" Merlin could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. His voice was tight with emotion. "Gwaine – I don't know what to say.  _Thank you_. And I'm sorry. And I wish – I wish you'd said something sooner."

"Well, I figured it was your thing to hide or reveal as you chose, and I understand why you chose to hide it. You don't need to thank me. You're my friend and I know you're a good person, I would never betray you. Never." He paused thoughtfully and looked at Merlin, who was beaming at him gratefully through tear brimmed eyes. Gwaine smiled, but his voice was serious when he continued, "I've watched you become more and more secluded, Merl, from everyone, and it pains me. Don't you have anyone to be honest with?" He couldn't entirely keep the hurt from his voice.

Merlin shook his head and gave a sad little smile. "I didn't want to put you in that position, Gwaine. To make you choose between treason and –"

Gwaine interrupted him with a loud  _tsk_. " _Choose_?"

"I know, I know," Merlin continued hurriedly, "I guess I knew what your choice would be, but I would still be making you guilty of treason, keeping something like this from Arthur. I'm sorry. I really am. I do trust you with this. With my life. I always have." He let out a happy sigh of relief and then gave Gwaine a wry grin, "I should apologize for knocking you out cold I suppose."

"What – when did you –" Gwaine's eyes widened, " _no_! The old sorcerer?"

Merlin nodded, suppressing his laughter.

" _That was you_?" Gwaine stared at Merlin, and then let out a wholehearted laugh that caused Elyan to turn around in his saddle. Gwaine gave him a friendly wave and grinned at him stupidly until he turned his back to them again.

"So why now?" Merlin asked, his voice low.

Gwaine appeared to choose his words carefully. "I thought you might need to talk about other things as well. About last night, maybe. About Arthur." He averted his eyes tactfully as Merlin took in his meaning, blood rushing visibly to his cheeks. "I thought maybe everything was intertwined somehow, that it might be difficult for you to talk about one thing without mentioning another thing. I don't know. Maybe I just missed the feeling of honesty between us."

Merlin was silent for a few moments. "Thank you," he whispered finally, "no one could ask for a better friend, Gwaine. You – you don't think less of me, then? For my magic? For – for laying with a man?" he could feel himself blushing furiously as he whispered the last words.

Gwaine scoffed at him, "Don't be ridiculous. That's far more common than people pretend, you know. I've watched you two long enough to know how much you care about each other. That much should be obvious to anyone. You're in love, aren't you?"

Merlin nodded, suddenly shy.

"Well, good." Gwaine leaned over and clapped him on the back.

Merlin shook his head in wonder. His cheeks were still suffused with color. "Well," he cleared his throat after a short silence, "I would like that. To talk with you about – things. But maybe now is not the best –"

"No, of course not, of course not.  _Pfft_. I'm not nearly drunk enough  _now_  to make interesting conversation."

They had ridden side by side for a while after that, until Arthur decided it was time for their midday meal, grinning at each other occasionally, and Merlin couldn't help but feel ridiculously happy and hopeful.  _If Gwaine had reacted that way, well…_

...

The stop for their midday meal had not exactly been uneventful as well. Merlin felt himself blush again as he remembered.

He had set up a small cooking fire while the knights competed among themselves to see who could catch more fish. Merlin could hear them splashing and horsing around near the riverbank. Feeling Arthur's watchful gaze on him, he had started the fire using frustratingly conventional means. Once everything was ready, he turned to where Arthur was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, eyes half closed.

"Arthur, I'm going to go call them. Shall I bring you back some water, or would you prefer mead, there's some left?"

Arthur gathered himself for a moment before replying. Merlin felt a sudden pang of guilt for not being at Arthur's side throughout the morning's ride, which had no doubt been difficult for him.

"Yes, Merlin, please bring me back some water."

They looked at each other. Merlin bit his lip. They were alone now, the two of them. If this were only the day before, Arthur would very likely be teasing Merlin in a low, affectionate whisper, Merlin would probably be stealing a kiss or two, biting Arthur's lower lip maybe, running his hand down Arthur's chest –

Reluctantly, Merlin forced his eyes away from Arthur's chest, from Arthur's mouth, to meet Arthur's gaze again. From the very slight flush in Arthur's cheeks and from the way his lips had curved upwards on one side, Merlin knew that he had been able to follow his thoughts.

Arthur gave the slightest shake of his head. " _Me_ rlin," he said, "don't make this –"

" _Harder_  than it has to be?" Merlin used his most innocent voice, but looked pointedly at the bulge in Arthur's trousers before raising an eyebrow at him coquettishly.

Arthur made a failed attempt at a stern look.

"Merlin, this is  _not_  my doing.  _You_  lied to  _me_. Do you deny it?" his voice was suddenly very somber.

Merlin sighed dejectedly and dragged a cup out of his saddle bag. "I'll be back in a moment or two," he said, "and after we eat, I'll want to have another look at your ribs and arm. I'm not exactly Gaius's apprentice, but I did see some knitbone plants near the river, I know how to prepare and apply them. At least I can make sure the swelling doesn't get any worse before you get to Gaius."

...

Merlin had wolfed down his meal, scalding his tongue not a little in the process, had made sure that Arthur was successfully feeding himself with his good arm, and then left the small clearing to follow the river back to the last place he had spotted the plant. Gwaine had followed him, bowl still in hand.

"You're coming with me?"

"Someone has to protect you, Merlin," Gwaine had answered between mouthfuls, "you're getting to be a very good cook and that's important for morale."

"Right. Thanks." Merlin rolled his eyes but grinned warmly at Gwaine, feeling a bit more light-hearted than before.

...

They had rejoined the others within twenty minutes. To his surprise, Merlin saw that the dishes and utensils had been cleaned and repacked into his saddle bag.

"You've got enough to do with making the King's poultice. We took care of that for you." Elyan smiled at him kindly. Percival scratched his chin and added, "One of the spoons may have floated away from us though."

Gwaine presented Percival with his empty bowl and held out his spoon to him as though it were a flower. "Compensation for your loss, good Sir."

"Can you walk with me to the river, Sire?" Merlin had asked quietly, ignoring the knights' jesting around him, and had supported Arthur's weight as they both made their way there.

After he had finished gingerly patting the last of the crushed leaves onto Arthur's ribcage, Merlin leaned back against the riverbank and closed his eyes for a few moments. The sun suddenly came out from behind the clouds and he had felt bathed in unexpected warmth. He opened his eyes to look at Arthur.

Arthur was sitting leaned against a large tree root, his armor and shirt removed. His hair seemed to shine in the golden light and his eyes were fixed on Merlin. Merlin's breath caught in his throat at the look of undisguised want in Arthur's eyes. He crawled towards him and gently placed a hand on his thigh. Arthur followed him with his eyes, making no motion to stop him. Merlin lightly stroked the bulge in Arthur's trousers that he had pretended not to notice before while tending to his ribs. Arthur gave a small gasp and bit his lip. Merlin considered. They were out of sight here and would most probably hear anyone approaching. He reached a quick decision.

"Try not to move your ribs, Sire, the knitbone paste needs to harden." Merlin quirked an eyebrow at Arthur as his fingers moved swiftly, untying Arthur's trousers. He knew his own voice was thick with desire and he knew the effect that had on Arthur.

He saw Arthur's eyes widen and recognized the brief hesitation he saw there. Giving Arthur no time to reconsider or even speak, he covered Arthur's mouth with his own, kissing him passionately and then sucking a moment on his bottom lip before letting him go. He could feel Arthur's mouth responding to his, as well as his body.

Arthur was rock hard in Merlin's hand and had begun moving his hips slightly. "Shhh, don't move, Arthur," Merlin whispered, half concerned and half amused, and then, steadying Arthur's hips with his hands, ran his tongue along what he usually teasingly referred to as the royal cock. He let his tongue flick the tip and watched Arthur bite down on his good hand.

 _This could be the last time_ , he suddenly thought, but determinedly pushed the thought from his mind. He took Arthur into his mouth, moving his tongue around his cock as he moved slowly up and down the length of it. Arthur let a low groan escape him and from the feel of him Merlin knew it wouldn't be long. He realized he had been rubbing his own groin against Arthur's leg and he removed his left hand from Arthur's hip, wrapped it around Arthur's cock for the wetness from his own mouth, and then roughly pulled his own trousers down. He stroked his own cock as his mouth moved along Arthur's. He heard another low groan and felt Arthur's hand fist into his hair just before Arthur came in a sudden hot burst and then slower, softer spasms. He swallowed and moved his hand faster along his own cock and then came swiftly, pulsating into his own hand, his cry of pleasure muffled by Arthur's cock still in his mouth.

He smiled then, letting the royal cock slip out of his mouth, and let his head rest against Arthur's thigh. He briefly wondered whether there was a spell to stop time from passing, to keep them in this moment a bit longer.

"Merlin," Arthur began hesitantly, then stopped. He ran his hand through Merlin's hair. "I love you." He whispered.

Merlin glanced up at him, and then sat up abruptly at the look on his face.

"Are you alright, Arthur?" He examined his ribs. The paste had dried, it was definitely time for them to get back before someone came looking for them.

Arthur shook his head in reply, the look in his eyes was both sad and fond. "I'm afraid of not ever doing this again with you," he confessed, after a moment, "which is why I surrendered to this decidedly unwise temptation right now." He ran a finger slowly along Merlin's lips. "This is foolhardy as well as selfish of me, considering what you've just been through." His voice grew harder at the last words.

Merlin sighed. "Don't blame yourself. We both wanted it, we both knew it was unwise." He slowly untied the neckerchief from around his neck and leaned over to dip it in the river.

The silence was strained as he cleaned both Arthur and himself, and helped Arthur back into his shirt and then grudgingly, at Arthur's insistence, back into his armor.

After Merlin had helped him up, Arthur had suddenly grabbed him, one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his neck, and had stared fiercely into his eyes for a moment. He had kissed him, hard and then gently, and then whispered as he drew away, "You would not betray me, Merlin?"

"Never," Merlin whispered back hoarsely, "never."

Arthur held his stare. "Tonight, Merlin, when we make camp, will you tell me what you have been keeping from me and why?" He could not keep the hurt out of his voice.

"Yes, I will Arthur." Merlin bit his lip and blinked back tears. The fear of losing this intimacy was overwhelming. How long until he won back Arthur's trust, if ever? Arthur would be within his rights to kill him, or banish him. He grew suddenly cold at the thought.

"Merlin?" Arthur was looking at him strangely.

Approaching footsteps put a stop to any thoughts of further private conversation, and Leon emerged from the trees to announce that everyone had stuffed themselves with wild blackberries, Gwaine had fallen asleep, and he personally thought it was time to continue on their way, if Merlin was finished tending to the King?

* * *

Leon was riding beside him now, and Merlin hoped he didn't see him flush as he remembered  _tending to the King_. The light was failing and as he had foreseen, the command to turn from the path and make camp was soon given. Leon rode ahead to Arthur's side, leaving Merlin trailing in the back, his panic again rising within him.

 _They are your friends_ , he reminded himself.

 _Your friends who uphold the King's law and believe magic is evil_ , his inner voice added unhelpfully.

"Merlin, catch up would you?" Gwaine yelled back at him. "Wood isn't going to gather itself."

 _It's going to be alright,_  Merlin told himself and, thoroughly unconvinced, urged his horse towards the sound of his friends' voices.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur stared across the campfire at Merlin, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze. Occasionally, he dropped his gaze and gazed into the crackling flames until his eyes tingled with the heat.

He had given Merlin an ultimatum.  _Tonight, when we make camp_. Well, the camp was made, Leon had just volunteered for first watch, and they were all settling in for the night. He had given Merlin an ultimatum, and his word was law, was it not?

He glanced up from the flames at Merlin again, and his heart gave a little unexpected leap in his chest when he saw that Merlin was meeting his gaze now, his beautiful jaw set in determination.  _Determination as in disobedience or …_? Well, he was about to find out apparently, because Merlin was getting to his feet and …

"King Arthur."

 _What the …_? Merlin had come to a stop just a few paces from the campfire, in the middle of their small circle. Arthur realized he was standing straighter than usual and looking at him with an air of actual  _authority_. He had called out his official title in a way that seemed almost a challenge as well as an opening.

Merlin glanced around, as if to make sure he had the knights' full attention, and then turned his own attention back to Arthur. Was he expecting a response? Arthur was at a loss for words.

"Arthur," Merlin continued, his eyes not moving from Arthur's now, his demeanor grave, his voice carrying, "I have been keeping a secret from you, Sire, for your own protection, and Camelot's."

Merlin paused. He seemed to hesitate, then reach a decision.

Arthur felt his jaw drop as Merlin lifted his hand, his eyes suddenly glowing gold, and spoke out in a loud, clear voice, " _Hildewæpen fléogan_ ". Their weapons instantaneously flew out of their scabbards, coming to a floating rest above their heads, just out of reach.

The moment seemed to last an eternity. Nobody moved or spoke. The shock that paralyzed them all was almost palpable.

 _Merlin. A sorcerer. Merlin._  Arthur's could feel his mind stuck, unable to grasp this concept, denying the truth of what was apparent before his eyes.

Belatedly, a few hands rose to the places where sword hilts should have been.

" _Stígnes._ " The word was almost gently spoken as Merlin lowered his hand. Arthur's sword slowly descended and drove itself into the ground in front of him.

Merlin seemed to be waiting, patiently. His men were so still that he half-wondered whether Merlin had placed a spell on them as well.

Arthur remembered to close his mouth, and then struggled to his feet, stopping himself just in the nick of time from automatically calling on Merlin for support.

Merlin took a step towards him, then another one.

"Sire!" Leon was holding a branch in his hand. He had taken a step forward and was looking at Arthur in bewilderment, "Sire, what should …"

Arthur raised his hand to stop him. He shook his head. This was between himself and Merlin. He forced himself not to flinch as Merlin closed the distance between them until Arthur could almost touch him if he reached out. He was still unable to think coherently.

Merlin sank to his knees before him.

Another long moment passed, and then Merlin lifted his eyes to meet Arthur's once more. He still seemed to be patiently waiting.

 _He's awaiting judgment_ , Arthur realized.

He grasped the hilt of his sword and drew it out of the ground. Merlin's eyes widened as they followed this movement, but he seemed to steel himself not to move. He swallowed and met Arthur's eyes again, unflinchingly.

The feel of a sword in his hand seemed to awaken him; his mind, so stubbornly still before, was suddenly racing everywhere at once. Past, present, future. Merlin, his servant. The day they had met. The knife aimed at him. If he had had magic all this time… the battle in Ealdor, the doorway that had conveniently collapsed on the undead knights… Merlin's doing? Merlin, his friend. Merlin, his lover. The feel of his lips earlier that day. Merlin, the sorcerer? Magic was outlawed in Camelot, punishable by death. Merlin, awaiting his judgment. He felt suddenly cold despite the close by fire.

"Arthur?"

His name, in that deep voice that he loved. That voice, which had lied to him every single day.

"Get up." Arthur's voice was harsh, he could feel the anger rising inside of him. This was betrayal.

Merlin seemed taken aback, unsure.

"Now!"

Merlin rose to his feet.

Arthur pushed back memories of that night… when Merlin had begun to rise to his feet by his bath tub and he had reached out… touched him…

"Why the charade? Why go down on your knees?"

Arthur could see the hurt in Merlin's eyes at his angry voice.

"Sire?"

"You could kill me now, yes?"

Merlin hesitated, unsure how to reply. "I don't want to kill you, Sire."

"But you  _could_? On your knees or not?"

"Well… yes." Merlin admitted, slowly.

"If I lift my sword now, you can more than defend yourself against me."

"I don't want to defend myself against you."

"You are more powerful than me." Arthur regretted that sentence the moment it left his lips. It sounded like a petulant accusation.

"It isn't a contest, Arthur. You have power, power that could easily be abused, yet you use it to do good."

Arthur stared at him. This was the wise, patient side of Merlin, the side he usually pretended didn't exist. This was the Merlin that advised him on matters of ruling his land so sagely sometimes, and then suddenly disappeared into the Merlin that tripped over his own feet and was useless at folding his shirts.

"But you have killed before." It wasn't a question.

"In Camelot's defense. As you have. As your knights have."

"They have sworn an oath of loyalty to me and to Camelot."

"I have not sworn an oath, but that does not make me any less loyal to you or to Camelot."

"And you would let me kill you now? If I sentence you to die for your crime?"

"I… I don't know."

A few moments passed in silence.

"What have you used your magic for?"

"For you, Sire. For Camelot. Well, and for my chores, I suppose."

One of the knights suppressed a guffaw at that.

"For your chores." Arthur repeated. Other visions of Merlin flew through his mind. Merlin, holding a broom. Merlin, scrubbing the floor. Merlin, being cuffed by a nobleman for not fetching something fast enough.

"Why? Why are you a servant?" The question was out before he could think to stop himself.

"Well… I think of myself more as your personal bodyguard, Sire. Except that you don't know I'm your bodyguard."

"My bodyguard."

"Yes." Merlin spoke firmly, now.

Arthur shut his eyes. His ribs were hurting him. "My bodyguard." He cleared his throat.

Realization dawned on him. His eyes flew open.

"I didn't defeat the dragon, did I?"

Merlin actually laughed at that. Dimples and all. "No, Sire."

Arthur was too shocked to be offended. "The griffin?"

"I enchanted the weapon."

"But Lancelot…" Arthur saw the guilt in Merlin's eyes now. " _Lancelot knew_?"

Merlin took a deep breath. "Yes, Sire, he knew."

"Who else knows?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin just shook his head.

 _How close had Merlin and Lancelot been_? Arthur wondered. He felt a wave of resentment and envy towards Lancelot that had nothing to do with Gwen…

 _Gaius_?  _Had Gwen known_?  _Did any of his knights know_?  _Gwaine_?

He turned to look at Gwaine, who very uncharacteristically lowered his eyes.

Percival, standing next to him, was very visibly shocked, and was staring at Merlin with what appeared to be concern.

"Magic is against the law." He stated.

"It shouldn't be." Merlin answered simply.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Sir Brennis jump trying to reach his sword.

"Try that again, and I'll break your wrist again." Percival's audible whisper reached his ears.

"Haven't you seen proof enough of the dangers of magic?" Arthur demanded.

"Yes. I've also seen proof enough of the dangers of swords." Merlin replied calmly. "Bandits and men without honor use their weapons to kill and to steal. You, all of you," he swept his gaze over the knights, "use it to defend and to protect. Why is it so hard to believe that it can be the same with magic? There are those who would abuse it, but others – oh, so many others – who use it for good. To help, to heal…" his eyes trailed down to Arthur's side.

"No good comes from healing magic."

"Oh, that's not true." Arthur could see the pity in Merlin's eyes, but his voice remained firm. "Much good comes from it. You have been healed by magic before. More than once."

"No," he continued, ignoring Arthur's obvious agitation at his previous words, "the reason magic was outlawed in Camelot…"

Merlin stopped now, swallowed, and his eyes seemed to be pleading for forgiveness as he said, "You know the truth of what happened. She spoke the truth; I couldn't let you bear the burden of having killed your own father, but it  _was_  the truth."

Moments, maybe minutes, of silence passed, Arthur wasn't sure.

He shook his head. He wanted to sit down again, lean back against the dead, fallen tree. He wanted this to not be true. But it made sense. Too much sense.

"How much does Camelot owe you? How much do I owe you?" he asked, tonelessly.

Merlin shook his head. "No one owes me anything, Sire. That's not why I do this."

"I'll bet we all owe you our lives several times over, don't we?" Gwaine put forth.

Merlin seemed uncomfortable.

"The wyverns? The skeleton army?" Gwaine persisted.

"Yes." Merlin admitted.

"That time I ran away with Sophia..? The gate that dropped when we were escaping that wildren cage?" Arthur asked, slowly, searching his memory.

"Yes."

"The boulders… that blocked me from the mercenaries…?"

"Yes." Merlin seemed to wince at the memory.

Arthur looked at Leon. His anger had faded away sometime between Merlin calling himself his bodyguard and reluctantly admitting to repeatedly saving his life. In fact, he was slightly in awe at the immensity of this sudden discovery of Merlin's magic and wanted nothing more than some time alone, to think.

"Sir Leon, what would you say if I sentenced this man to death?"

"Sire." Leon paused, and then continued, "I would think it a poor repayment for his service to Camelot, but I would think it your right, as King."

"And you are all of this opinion?" Arthur surveyed his knights.

"I am, Sire." Percival said quietly, after a moment.

"He's still Merlin. We know him." Gwaine spoke up.

"Gwen trusted him. I… I trust him. Sire."

"Thank you, Elyan. Well, Merlin, it seems your friends have not abandoned you. Despite the fact that you lied to them. Every day."  _As you lied to me_ , the words were unspoken yet felt.

"I watched people executed in Camelot for the crime of being born with magic, as I was." Merlin's voice was hard now, filled with pain. "When would have been a good time to come forward? The day your father appointed me to be your servant? One year after that? Two? That first day, I would have been executed the next dawn. How much sleep would you have lost over that? At which point in time should I have felt that you knew me well enough to trust that I used my magic for good? After how many years tainted by deception? And if I was forced to run from Camelot, how long until Morgana succeeded in killing you? What choice did I have, what choice did you leave me?" Merlin bit his lip. His voice had been so  _bitter_.

Arthur nodded slowly.

"If I decide this now… this changes everything. All these years. I have been unjust, unfair?"

Merlin sighed wearily.

"Sire, you have not been King for long. You were raised by your father. Even then, you stood up to him more than once. You were fed lies. There was no one to show you the truth about magic, or at least no one who dared. Your father let innocents suffer due to his anger at a deal he knowingly made with dark magic…"

"Enough." Arthur turned around abruptly. "Enough." He said again, more softly. "I'm injured. Tired. We should all turn in for the night."

"Sire?" Merlin's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You didn't kill us last night or the night before that. Would I be correct in assuming you have no intention of killing us all in our sleep tonight?" Arthur asked, dryly.

"I… no. I mean, yes, you would be correct. Sire."

"Well then. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. We can continue to discuss this in the morning."

"Discuss this… in the morning?" Merlin repeated stupidly.

"Yes." Another thought came to him suddenly.  _Last night_. "Last night. What happened?"

The color rose in Merlin's face and he bit his lip again. "Umm. Well, you know. They wanted to… I mean…" Arthur thought he saw Merlin's hands tremble before he clasped them behind his back. Merlin cleared his throat. "I caused the cave in, Sire. They would have chased us. They were… they were bad men. And Morgana could have showed up at any moment…"

"Yes, all right. Get… get some sleep, Merlin." Arthur's voice was strange to his own ears. At first no one moved as he sat down near the fallen tree and busied himself with arranging his cloak and blanket, but then one knight sat down, and then another.

"Merlin, would you..?" Leon gestured at his sword, floating just out of reach above his head.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry." The swords floated gently down and were plucked out of the air rather gingerly.

Merlin stood and stared around himself in shock as final preparations were made to settle in for the night.

Leon nodded at him and took up first watch.

Gwaine laid his cloak down on the ground next to Merlin's, grinning at him.

Percival gave him a cautious smile and then busied himself with displacing some offending rocks.

Elyan also gave him a nod before pulling his blanket all the way over his head.

Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat.

He looked over at Arthur. Arthur's eyes were closed. His arm was wrapped around his ribs again. He wondered whether Arthur would get any sleep tonight at all, what with the pain and the discovery of his magic. If only… if only he could have a  _private_  conversation with Arthur.  _Maybe tomorrow_. He unconsciously put a hand over his aching heart.

"Merlin," Gwaine hissed at him, "come lie down already. I want to be sound asleep before Sir Brennis starts snoring."

Merlin felt the corner of his mouth curl upwards. 'Yeah, all right."

Automatically, he knelt and doused the fire partially so that it would burn low throughout the night. Then he dragged the cooking pot that he had already filled with water close to the fire, so that it would be warm in the morning. Raising his eyes, he saw that Arthur was surveying his actions with interest. Flustered, he wondered whether he should say something, but Arthur immediately closed his eyes again.

" _Merlin_!" Gwaine hissed.

Merlin stretched himself out on his cloak and stared up at the patches of sky between the branches above his head.

"Now  _this_  was an eventful evening. Are you all right?" Gwaine whispered.

"Yeah." Merlin whispered back, and determinedly blinked back tears. "I just... I just can't believe I finally did that. Arthur…" his voice trailed away.

"Don't worry about the princess," Gwaine whispered after a few moments, "he'll come around. He won't stay mad at you for long. Who could?"

Merlin could hear the smile in Gwaine's voice. Then after a few more minutes, he could hear the slow, steady sound of his sleeping breaths.

All around him, in fact, were the sounds of sleep. The knights, the King – they were allowing themselves to sleep near him, near a self-confessed  _sorcerer_. He hadn't been banished, he wasn't running for his life… his friends had accepted him, or at least seemed to be on their way towards acceptance. Of magic. He shook his head to himself in wonder.

Tomorrow he would talk to Arthur alone, he decided. He owed him a more personal apology.

He continued to stare up at the darkness until finally, somehow, sleep claimed him.


	10. Chapter 10

Merlin stood outside Arthur's door, hesitating. This had been a strange day, and a long one.

Percival had been on watch just before dawn and had nudged him awake with the tip of his boot.

"Thanks." Merlin had whispered, to which Percival had replied that he hadn't really been sure whether to wake him or not.

They stared at each other a moment, Merlin realizing he didn't really know how much would change now.

"Hey, listen – I'm sorry, Perce. For lying."

Percival nodded. "I guess you were afraid."

"Yeah."

"Well, I thought you made sense. About how anything can be used for either good or bad. I guess – I guess it's alright. It'll take some getting used to, though." He grinned, and then returned to his post.

Merlin had quietly gone about his usual early morning camp chores, preparing hot food and drink. Dawn broke gradually, and he let his spoon make some noise as he stirred. The knights began to wake, and when he glanced over at Arthur yet again, he saw that Arthur was fully awake and watching him silently.

"Why are you still pretending you're a servant?" Arthur had suddenly asked.

"I am a servant." He had replied, after which Arthur had fallen silent and had not spoken to him again until after their midday meal.

They all rode in what Merlin felt to be an uncomfortable silence that day, Arthur silent and preoccupied with his own thoughts.

After Merlin had packed the last of their utensils, not long after noon and only a couple of hours ride from Camelot, Arthur had motioned to Merlin to follow him, telling the others that they would remain a while in the makeshift camp they had made.

Merlin had followed Arthur through the trees and up a small grassy knoll, where Arthur had sat down on a small boulder and began questioning him in very thorough detail about his magic and how he had been using it. Merlin had sat down across from him on the ground, legs crossed, patiently answering. He wasn't sure how long they had been; the questioning was strained, formal and seemed very long. Arthur lapsed into a thoughtful silence occasionally, followed by another barrage of questions. He never ventured into anything personal between them. Finally, he had risen to his feet and started back towards their camp, without so much as another word to Merlin.

They had continued their journey in much the same manner as that morning, and when Camelot had finally come into view, Arthur had addressed them formally, ordering them to keep Merlin's magic a secret, since he had yet to decide whether magic would be declared legal once more and if so, how it was to be done with the least amount of resistance from his council and from the people. Also, he had continued, there could be an advantage to Merlin's magic remaining a secret. He had waited until the knights had all sworn their secrecy, and had then ridden on towards Camelot.

Merlin hadn't even had time to absorb the meaning of all this when they passed through the gates of Camelot and an uproar ensued. A paunchy red-faced council member was shouting at either Gwaine or Arthur or both, a redheaded young lady whose wrist he was grabbing was weeping profusely, a plump young woman was wringing her hands in agitation and trying to calm the young lady down, two knights – both looking as though they would rather be anywhere else right now – were trying to explain the situation and apologizing to Arthur, and a small crowd had gathered, adding to the general hubbub.

Arthur had raised a hand for silence, reprimanded the council member for the indecorous public display, and had requested that both he and Gwaine attend him in his chambers. Merlin had gathered from the shouting that the relationship between the council member's daughter, the young redheaded Alice, and Gwaine had somehow been discovered, and that her father was understandably outraged.

Arthur sent Leon to fetch Gaius for him, and then proceeded to head to his chambers, with the council member, his weeping daughter, his daughter's maid, and a rather alarmed-looking Gwaine in tow.

The day had dragged on and turned into late evening and Merlin hadn't been sure what to do with himself. He had waited in Gaius's chambers for what seemed to him a reasonable amount of time, but Gaius did not return. He had then ambled over to Gwaine's room, only to collide with a grinning Gwaine in the doorway.

"Merlin!" Gwaine seized him by the shoulders and then embraced him, still grinning. "Guess – no, you'll never guess. I'm going to be married!"

Merlin couldn't help but grin back, but he did raise an inquisitive eyebrow in surprise. "You seem delighted?"

"Yes! Don't tell anyone though."

"Wouldn't dream of it. You hide it so well."

"Alice is with child! I'm going to be a father, Merlin!" Gwaine continued enthusiastically, ignoring his remark completely. "She told her father my father's name, I suppose I can't blame her, and if he's not happy, well, at least he's not too upset. I have to go now. Drink later?"

"Wait!" Merlin protested, putting out a hand to stop Gwaine from leaving, and lowering his voice. "Do – do you love her, Gwaine? Is this what you want?"

Gwaine grabbed his hand and squeezed it in his own. "Yes." He answered simply, and then left with a parting wink.

Merlin, standing there and staring after him, realized he was feeling something akin to jealousy.

This wouldn't do. He had to talk to Arthur.

So now Merlin was standing outside Arthur's door, his resolve wavering, and Arthur's supper growing cold on the tray.

He took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorknob.

…

Arthur looked up as the door to his chambers opened and Merlin came in with his supper, as though it were any other day.

Merlin lay the tray down on his desk, lifted the cover from a dish of lamb meat and green beans, and poured out some wine.

Arthur stared at the food. He wasn't really hungry.  _Well, maybe just dessert_ , he thought, noticing the blackberry pastry. He lifted it and took a bite, looking up at Merlin. He was suddenly unsure – should he speak to him as his King, as his friend, as his lover..? He felt an odd mixture of anger and compassion. He wanted to reach out and touch Merlin, but his trust had been betrayed. He was still in some pain, although Gaius's poultice, draught and expert binding had helped immensely, and he felt emotionally, as well as physically, drained.

Merlin, as though sensing something of his thoughts, went and sat down on his bed.  _Alright, not King and manservant then; just Arthur and Merlin_.

"You lied to me."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"You lied to me." Arthur repeated.

Merlin sighed. "For what it's worth, I wanted to tell you. I would have told Arthur the man, but you're also Arthur the King…"

"How can I trust you again?" Arthur had broken off another piece of his pastry and was toying with it, not meeting Merlin's eyes.

"Listen - at first you were my Prince, just a royal prat, and then you became my friend. My friend, but you couldn't admit even to yourself that you knew your father was wrong about many things. Then you were King – and I almost told you, so many times, but I was afraid. I was afraid you would feel it was a betrayal of our friendship, and I couldn't risk you or Camelot. This was bigger than a friendship – without my magic to protect you and aid Camelot, I didn't know what would happen. Like you, I have a responsibility. It was… " Merlin's voice broke, "it was hard for me to lie to you. It was hard for me to hear you speak of magic and sorcerers the way you did. I felt guilty for not aiding others like me more. I felt guilty for aiding them at all. When you and I… well…" his voice trailed off into silence.

When neither of them had spoken for a few moments, he continued in a tiny voice that crushed Arthur's heart. "Do you still… do you still love me?"

Arthur shut his eyes. As if he could stop loving Merlin. He took a deep breath and looked at Merlin now.

Merlin cleared his throat and was trying to blink away the moisture in his eyes. "Do you still want me here, Arthur? As your manservant? As your manservant and secret bodyguard? As... as court sorcerer? As..." his hand smoothed the sheets on Arthur's bed, "as this, as us?"

 _It really must have been terribly hard and painful for him_ , Arthur allowed. He had forced himself to think of this from Merlin's perspective a few times since this afternoon.

He sighed, got up and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside Merlin.

"What an extraordinary circumstance we find ourselves in." He said wryly.

They sat there, silent and not touching.

"Will... will you really allow magic again in Camelot, do you think?" Merlin asked hesitantly.

Arthur nodded slowly. He had been thinking on it all day. "Yes, yes I believe I will."

Merlin smiled then, joy lighting up his eyes. "Thank you." He said simply.

Arthur reached out to take Merlin's hand in his, and then reconsidered, pulling his hand back.

"I need time. Time to trust you again." He said in a low voice, studying Merlin's face with regret.

Merlin nodded unhappily. "I'll leave you then, Sire."

Arthur watched him walk towards the door.

"Would you stoke the fire? I'm a bit cold." He blurted out, just as Merlin laid his hand on the doorknob.

_What am I doing? I don't want him to leave. No, I'm just cold, that's all._

Merlin paused. He looked at Arthur as though searching his face for something, and Arthur could see the hope flicker in his eyes.

He glanced towards the fire, and his eyes shone gold for an instant, the flames jumping high in response.

Arthur choked on his next breath. "Merlin, some warning please!"

Merlin just stared at him. "I'm going to kiss you."

"What..?"

"Consider it a warning, Sire."

Merlin crossed the room in a couple of strides, and then his lips were on his in a warm, rough kiss that ended much too quickly for Arthur's liking. He could feel his body responding to Merlin's nearness.

Merlin leaned his forehead against his own, his warm hands on either side of Arthur's face. "I'll go now."

"Stay." Arthur whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"No. Stay anyway."

Arthur was unfastening Merlin's belt now and he could feel Merlin's mouth curve into a smile as they kissed.

"Merlin… the door…"

"Mmhmm…" Merlin turned his head towards the door and made a motion with his hand, " _awegalúcan_ ".

"I'm… going to have to get used to that." Arthur murmured, as Merlin pulled his tunic over his head.

"Yes." Merlin agreed, his voice thick with desire now as he grasped Arthur's hips and pushed him gently onto the bed.

Arthur could feel his heart racing impossibly fast as Merlin dropped his trousers to the floor and then climbed onto the bed with him.

"Here, let me help you with that, Sire." Merlin murmured, his lips on the skin just above Arthur's trousers, as he began removing his tunic.

Arthur felt him stop, suddenly.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a low voice, lifting his head, his arms still caught in his tunic.

Merlin placed his hand gently on the dressing covering Arthur's ribs in way of response. "Are you in pain? We don't have to…"

"Absolutely not." Arthur lied firmly, releasing himself from his tunic and untying his trousers.

Merlin hesitated a moment longer, and then ran his tongue along Arthur's erection, raising a mischievous eyebrow at him while pulling his trousers off the rest of the way.

Arthur moaned softly in response, and then pulled Merlin towards him, propping himself up on his good arm and kissing Merlin's shoulder blade, his lower back…

Then it was his turn to abruptly pause.

"Merlin… is this too soon for you? I didn't think… after what happened…"

"Nothing happened," it was Merlin's turn to protest the interruption, "I'm perfectly alright.  _Please_ , Arthur."

Merlin's hips moved up and against his in a very convincing way that effectively shut down any and all further thought.

There was some more kissing, some fumbling to find a small bottle of balm that had been given to Arthur by Gaius for a somewhat different purpose, and then he entered Merlin, moving inside him slow and deep, the way Merlin liked it.

"Are you – is this alright?"

"Yes, Arthur, don't you  _dare_  stop." Merlin gasped.

He moved his hand from Merlin's hip and began slowly to stroke the perfect, hard length of him. He could tell by the way that Merlin felt and moved beneath him, by the way he moaned with pleasure at Arthur's touch, that it wouldn't be long now.

Merlin let out a short cry of pleasure and Arthur could feel his warm pulsating release all over his hand.

As always, the sound of Merlin's deep voice shuddering in climax, followed by the small sounds of pleasure that escaped him even after he bit his lip in an effort to remain quiet, and the curve of Merlin's neck as he rested his head on his arms, the tension leaving his shoulders, caused the building pressure tingling everywhere in Arthur's body to mount rapidly. With a couple of quick thrusts the sweet pressure burst, and he stifled his own cry by biting down on Merlin's shoulder.

He lowered himself slowly onto Merlin, kissing and nuzzling the bite mark on Merlin's shoulder. He traced Merlin's shoulder-blade with his tongue and then kissed it for good measure.

"Merlin?" he murmured, and then rolled to one side and propped himself up on his elbow as it dawned on him that Merlin wasn't as responsive as usual. Merlin's face was still turned away from his.

"Merlin?" he asked hesitantly, more alert now. "That – that wasn't too soon, was it?"

"I wanted it, Arthur. I really wanted it." Merlin's voice was a bit muffled.  _That wasn't a no_. Arthur's heart sank.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't premature." Arthur answered slowly, his hand caressing and tracing vague shapes on Merlin's back. "Maybe we need to ease back into this –"

"No!" Merlin said hotly. "I don't want to  _ease_  back into anything! I want… I want…"

Merlin propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Arthur with a defiant expression. "I want  _us_  and I want  _this_  and I want  _that_  to never have happened." He buried his face in his hands, and Arthur noticed they were shaking slightly. "I honestly didn't think, Arthur, that the memory of… that it would affect me. I'm sorry. It just… all of a sudden…"

Arthur clenched his jaw, but laid his hand gently on Merlin's shoulder. "It's alright, Merlin, just give yourself some time. It wasn't exactly nothing, after all."

"I know." Merlin sighed, and then rested his head against Arthur's shoulder, as Arthur rolled over onto his back.

A few moments passed as they lay there listening to the sound of each other breathing.

"I'm not sorry we did this, though." Merlin said suddenly, and Arthur could feel him smiling. It was as if a weight was lifted from his heart.

"I'm not sorry either, then," he said, "even though maybe it wasn't the brightest of ideas." Arthur ran his hand over his ribs and winced slightly. He felt Merlin's grin broaden.

"What a sorry pair we are." Merlin observed, fluttering his eyelashes on purpose against Arthur's shoulder.

"Mmm." Arthur agreed, and then a moment later, "Well, maybe not  _that_  sorry. I am King, after all."

"True, true," Merlin conceded, "and  _I_  am a very powerful warlock."

"So you are."

" _And_  a dragon lord."

" _What_?"

"There might be, um, some more things we need to discuss."

Arthur sighed. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Merlin agreed, sleepily.

"Merlin?" Arthur nudged him with his shoulder. "Then, that man… the dragon lord we sought out…"

"Balinor. He was my father."

"I'm sorry. Merlin, I had no idea." Arthur turned his head and regarded Merlin with concern. "You were grieving for your loss, while I – "

"It's alright. I'd only just found out anyway. I'd only known him for a few hours." Merlin couldn't quite hide the pain in his voice though.

Arthur took Merlin's hand in his and caressed his wrist gently with his thumb.

Merlin closed his eyes again.

"We have a lot to discuss tomorrow." Arthur whispered. "This. Allowing magic in Camelot. Your position…"

Merlin gave a small nod without opening his eyes. "Tomorrow."

Arthur sighed.  _It isn't going to be easy_ , he thought,  _but at least this feels right_.

He lay there, his hand caressing Merlin's, watching him until he couldn't hold his eyes open any longer, and despite everything, he fell asleep smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin sat on the floor, hugging his knees, watching Sir Pounce-a-lot chase a couple of blue butterflies and adorably lose his balance when he couldn't quite make up his mind which butterfly to pursue. The butterflies left a shimmering blue trail that lingered a few moments in the air as they fluttered to and fro.

"Arthur told me what you said to him, in the cellar in the woods… I hope that's alright?" he ventured.

Percival frowned slightly. He had been sitting on a low bench nearby in comfortable silence, whittling a piece of wood into a toy horse for the cook's little boy, occasionally pausing to watch his kitten for a few moments, and to watch Merlin's eyes flash gold every now and then.

"That's alright," he said slowly, "it's just… no, that's alright."

Merlin hesitated. He felt that he understood Percival better now, but he didn't want to presume. "I was just wondering, is that why you became a knight? Protecting the helpless and all that?"

"I guess you could say that." Percival thought and then grinned at Merlin, "That's how Lance talked me into staying, at least. I guess you could say I became a knight because of you."

"How's that, exactly?"

"Well, Lance talked me into staying, and Lance became a knight thanks to you, in a way, so in a way so did I."

"Camelot owes me a huge debt if you look at things that way." Merlin grinned broadly.

"Camelot  _does_  owe you a great debt." Percival said quietly, and resumed his whittling.

"Um." Merlin felt his cheeks flush. He changed the subject. "So I hear you're to be the bride's knight in the handfasting ceremony tonight." He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm trying to imagine Gwaine,  _the married man_."

Percival smiled wryly and then looked out the window at the bright orange sky. "We'd better get ready," he said, rising to his feet, "especially you. You know Arthur will be livid if he sees you walking around dressed like a servant again."

"I'm not dressed 'like a servant', I'm dressed like  _me_ , these are my clothes. The new clothes… well, they feel too new."

Merlin looked down at his somewhat frayed sleeves and sighed. Arthur  _would_  be livid.

" _Mer_ lin, you're the court sorcerer! You're supposed to look powerful and… and intimidating, not like you're on your way to fetch my  _bloody soup_!" he had shouted in an exasperated tone of voice just a few days ago.

The new clothes  _were_  lovely. They were grey and red, to match Arthur's and the knights' armor, and Arthur had had the druid triskelion symbol embroidered in silver thread on the red cloak. Merlin had worn the cloak to bed that night. The cloak, and nothing else…

"You're very grateful, not that I'm complaining, for a simple gift of two new sets of clothes." Arthur had looked pleased with himself though, and Merlin had just smiled and lowered his eyes, not knowing how to convey how much the gift meant to him.

"I'll go change then," Merlin said, his voice growing warmer at the memory. "I suppose I just need to wear them in..."

His sigh was both fond and resigned as he stood up and made for the doorway.

…

"Merlin!  _Merlin_!"

Merlin turned to see Leon running to catch up with him in the narrow corridor leading to his chamber.  _His chamber_. He complained about it being unnecessary, and spent most of his time in Gaius's and Arthur's chambers anyway, but it was apparently expected of him to have his own rooms now, and Gaius had actually seemed relieved that he had another place to experiment with the new spells he had been learning.

"Must I live in constant fear of the ceiling over my head?" he had asked Merlin, raising an eyebrow at him as he corked a small bottle of medicine for the stable master. He had been referring to an incident where a smudged letter in a book of spells, a sleepy Merlin and a miscalculation of how many drams make up an ounce had all contributed to a rather sizeable explosion in Merlin's bedroom and a rather upset Gaius fishing ceiling fragments out of his porridge.

Leon caught up with him and put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin," he said apologetically, "I'm glad I caught you! I wanted to warn you about Lord Moorefield. He arrived in Camelot yesterday, and ever since he's been dogging the heels of every noble and their aunt, trying to find support for a petition to the King about reinstating the ban against magic."

"Right, well, he's not the first, nor will he be the last, I guess." Merlin shrugged.

"Yes, but …" Leon hesitated. "Well, he's been saying things."

"Things? About me, you mean?"

"Yes. Well, about you and Arthur." Leon paused again.

Merlin felt the blood rush to his face. "Oh." he said.

"No! I mean, not …" Leon turned an impressive shade of red. He cleared his throat.

"What I'm trying to say is," he went on determinedly, "he's been accusing you of bewitching Arthur somehow."

"Oh." Merlin considered for a moment. "Are people afraid that I'm controlling Arthur with magic?"

"Not people that actually know the two of you. I don't think he's getting support from any nobles here at court or from any council members. I mean, we've all seen you fi – um, disagreeing with each other …"

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, acknowledging the truth of this. "You can't roll your eyes at me in public,  _I'm the King_." Arthur had hissed at him during the most recent council meeting, at which Merlin had promptly rolled his eyes again before he caught himself.

" … and Arthur is very much himself and makes all of the final decisions, " Leon was saying when Merlin snapped his attention back to the present, "but I thought it might be prudent to warn you before tonight's celebrations so that you can perhaps act …" Leon stopped, searching for the right word.

"Less familiar?" Merlin suggested.

"More deferential." Leon agreed.

"Not a problem." Merlin said.  _That will probably last all of two minutes_ , he thought to himself. He gave Leon his best sunny smile.

Leon gave him a sympathetic smile in return and took his leave.

…

Arthur was leaning against the window in Merlin's room, arms crossed and forehead furrowed, staring unseeingly at the rain outside.

Visiting nobles were pouring into Camelot on account of the wedding of Lord Pomferly's daughter, Alice.  _I must remember not to refer to him as Lord Pompously_ , Arthur reminded himself. _Why must Merlin make up such memorable epithets for people_?

This morning, Arthur had been walking across the courtyard with one of his knights just as a large family was descending from their carriage with servants bustling about them, laying wooden planks over puddles and carrying large trunks into the castle. The father, Baron Something-Or-Other whose name Arthur could not recall ( _it rhymed with barley perhaps?_ ) gave Arthur a slightly frightened look and shushed his children, hurrying them indoors. Arthur had recollected then that this family had been on very friendly terms with Agravaine, whose betrayal still rankled. He had been in a foul mood since.

He had never suspected Agravaine of plotting against him, had welcomed his uncle to Camelot with open arms, hoping to find a connection with him that he never could with his father. Morgana's missive had crushed that notion, informing him of his uncle's treason as a gesture of good will on her part. Agravaine must have been forewarned by her though, having fled Camelot the night before. The relief Arthur felt at Morgana's truce had not quite dulled the pain of discovering the treason of his only other living family member.

Morgana's missive had been painful for Merlin as well. While she commended Arthur on his belated acceptance of magic and had expressed both her sorrow that it had not come sooner, before their relationship had been irrevocably ruined, and her regret that she had not attempted perhaps to reason with him rather than seeing him as a duplicate of his father, she had no such gracious words for Merlin. Her words for him were as sharp as knives and, Arthur suspected, had cut deeper than any knife could. " _If only you had shared your magic with me,_ " Merlin had whispered, rereading that particular sentence again and again with silent tears streaming down his face, his shoulders hunched in pain, " _if only you had guided me when I came to you as a friend, desperate, afraid and in need of help._ "

Arthur's heart went out to the Morgana of his youth, but her understandable fear and anger had turned into hatred and cruelty with the help of Morgause's emotional manipulations, and by now his half-sister must have caused the death of hundreds of innocents. He recalled how he had sat by Gaius's bed after his torture, recalled Merlin's face when he had told him about his capture. He thought of Merlin, chained, screaming in pain as the evil creature dug his way into him, fearing that his would be the hand that killed Arthur. No, reconciliation was impossible.

 _This is all my father's doing_ , he thought bitterly,  _what he has he touched that he has not ruined_.

He rested his forehead against the windowpane and shut his eyes. He shouldn't be here really, he had matters to attend to, but he had thought that Merlin might be here and that seeing him might lighten his mood. In fact, not that he would admit it to anyone, least of all himself, he needed to see Merlin's smile and hear his reassurance that all would be well. For all that, he had been waiting too long. It wasn't seemly. He should go, really …

He waited.

…

Merlin opened the door and his heart gave a little jump in his chest when he saw Arthur there.

"Arthur!" his voice was surprised but pleased, and then his face fell suddenly as he remembered his attire. He glanced down at his faded purple tunic and then back at Arthur, waiting for his reaction.

"I'm going to send for your old clothes and have them burned." Arthur made a half-hearted threat.

"Right then." Merlin took in Arthur's expression and posture.  _He looks tired right down to his soul_ , he thought. Merlin knew that Arthur was still reeling from the blow of Agravaine's betrayal, but he also knew that Arthur would simply brush him off if he said anything about it.

"So, you finally found my room, you prat." Merlin grinned. "I was wondering if it was beneath your dignity to climb up so many stairs,  _Sire_."

Arthur smiled wryly and Merlin could almost feel him relax into their usual banter.

"I thought maybe an orb of light would appear to guide me in my hour of need, but I was sadly mistaken." Arthur sighed dramatically.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He unfastened his belt and began removing his tunic. "I need to get dressed." He said, his voice muffled from within his tunic, just as he felt Arthur's hands on his hips.

"Well, you seem to be going about it the wrong way." Arthur quipped.

"Arthur …" Merlin's remonstration was cut short by Arthur pressing his lips softly to the faded Serket sting marks on his chest, which he had recently confided were not actually remnants of some childhood disease.

"Mmm." He remarked eloquently.

"You know, Merlin," Arthur said thoughtfully, nuzzling Merlin's neck, "we haven't tried your bed yet." He bit down gently on Merlin's lower lip and smiled, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Merlin looked at him, this golden King of his, the man he loved. Last night, sitting at his desk with tousled hair and in his nightshirt, Arthur had penned a polite refusal to yet another offer of a marriage contract with a very marriageable princess. "Arthur," Merlin had felt compelled to say, though the very thought made it difficult for him to breathe, "if it is your responsibility to Camelot as King to provide a successor to the throne, then maybe …" but Arthur had just shaken his head without even lifting his eyes from the letter he was writing. "Don't be absurd Merlin," he had said, "Camelot will have a successor, of course. Leon, perhaps, will have a son eventually. I am sure many of my trusted knights will have sons that I can choose a worthy successor from amongst."

"Or daughters." Merlin had chided.

"Or daughters." Arthur had amended. "After all, does blood count for that much? Consider me and my father, Merlin."

Merlin had sat cross-legged on the bed waiting for Arthur to finish his tasks, playing with a small flame in the palm of his hand, his happiness bubbling within him.

He reached out and pressed the palm of his hand to Arthur's chest now. "I love you, Arthur Pendragon." he said very resolutely.

Arthur's smile widened and he bit his lip as if to tame it. He took Merlin by the wrist and began pulling him towards the bed. "Come here and ensorcell me, O mighty sorcerer."

Merlin grinned, his eyes flashing gold as the latch on his door slid securely into place. "Your wish is my command, my King."

…

Years later, Gwaine had  _still_  not tired of cheerfully complaining about that time his close friend Merlin, the legendary court sorcerer, and Arthur, the King of Camelot, had both arrived late to his wedding ceremony.


End file.
